: 7/y • y YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY From the Library of WILLIAM M. ODOM TRAVELS IN ITALY, GREECE, AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. TRAVELS IK ITALY, GREECE, AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. IX A SERIES OF LETTERS, DESCRIPTIVE OF MANNERS, SCENERY, AND THE FINE ARTS. By H. W. WILLIAMS, Esq. WITH ENGRAVINGS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. EDINBURGH : PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH • AND lll'U-T, ItOBINSO-V, AND CO. 90, CHEAPS IDE, LONDON. < 1820. REVEREND JOHN THOMSON, F.R.S.E. LETTERS FROM ITALY ARE INSCRIBED, BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND, H. W. WILLIAMS. PREFACE. In presenting these Letters to the public, it were equally idle to affect indifference to their reception, or overwhelming solicitude. Were I ambitious of literary fame, I might, indeed, sink under the consciousness of having engaged inan undertaking, so foreign to my previous habits and pursuits j while I could not fail to be still more discouraged by the learning and talents of those accom plished travellers, with whom I should thus be brought into immediate comparison. My aim has been different and less aspiring; and were it necessary to apologize for the apparent presumption, of obtruding on the public an account of my travels in countries, already so frequently and amply described as almost to satiate curiosity, I would derive viii PREFACE. my apology from those very circumstances, which disqudjjy me from competing with my more le|||ed predecessors. The dis quisitions Into which the antiquary and the classical scholar are perpetually and irresist ibly led, in adverting to the scenes of his torical or fabulous celebrity, and to the vari ous monuments of ancient times, which in Greece and Italy meet us at every s$ep, are apt to withdraw their attention from objects of more obvious, though not inferior, inter est; and leave the general reader, but, above all, the future traveller in the same coun tries, cause to regret, that so disproportion ate a share of their works is devoted to these disquisitions, to the exclusion of much valuable information. Besides, our modes of observation are as various as our mental peculiarities. What one traveller may be 'inclined to disregard, another may consider as worthy of especial attention ; and a corresponding variety of tastes may be expected in their readers. The writer, therefore, who con- PREFACE. IX tents himself with describing scenes and objects as they presented themselves to his own mind, and expressing his senti ments as they arose, can scarcely fail to excite some degree of interest, and to im part to his information the freshness of originality. To this end my ambition as an author is limited, — happy if I have suc ceeded in delineating faithfully the objects which were most attractive to myself, and in conveying to my readers some impres sion of the feelings, with which I contem plated the scenery and the precious monu ments of the most interesting countries in the world. My professional habits may have inclined me to indulge in more lengthened remarks on works of art, than may appear, to some of my readers, either necessary or proper. Of this propensity I was myself aware, and frequently endeavoured to restrain it. Yet who could resist dwelling with enthusiasm on those great masterpieces, which have commanded the admiration, and regulated PREFACE. the taste of ages ; and which, while they exist, will continue to impart their princi pal interest to the favoured countries in which they were produced? In Britain, where the Fine Arts now flourish with a vigour, that bids fair to rival the best pro ductions of antiquity, these remarks may be considered as not altogether devoid of interest. They may furnish some useful hints to those who have no opportunity of contemplating the splendid originals to which they refer ; they may be of some ad vantage to our ingenuous youth, whose chief object in visiting those countries, is, to improve their taste by the study of the inimitable monuments of genius with which they are enriched ; and may tend to shew the causes which have contributed to the degeneracy of the modern Italian Schools, and the improvements of which their pre sent modes of study appear to be suscep tible. From all that 1 have had an opportunity of observing abroad, my uniform aim has PREFACE. XI been, to select what might be ornamental or useful at home ; and most fortunate should I account myself, if the suggestions which I have occasionally presumed to offer, should lead to any practical advan tage, — particularly in the embellishment of our northern capital. To do justice to the merits of our Bri tish artists, who, in almost every depart ment, leave their contemporaries on the Continent far behind, was another object which I had much at heart. Wherever an opportunity occurred of bringing the works of our eminent painters, particularly in Edinburgh, into comparison with those which I have seen in Italy, I embraced it with eagerness; and have only to regret, that these opportunities have been so rare as to oblige me to omit some names, well en titled to praise. To the compositions of Mr Gibson, the miniatures of Mr Douglas, the portraits of Mr Watson, Mr Sime, and of Mr John Watson, whose surprising progress in the art is the theme of general admira- Xli PREFACE. tion, — it would have given me much plea sure to advert ; and, perhaps, an opportu nity may hereafter be found. The Plates which accompany these Letters are engrav ed by Mr Lizars ; and the style in which they are executed are, in every respect, worthy of his well-earned celebrity. I have only to add, that, though I am chargeable with all the faults which may be detected in these Letters* there are some parts of them of which I cannot claim the praise. The accomplished and invaluable friend with whom it was my happiness to travel, allowed me to tran scribe from his Journal the Letters from Elba, part of the Journey to Otranto, and the Description of the Ionian Islands. * To another friend I am indebted for a few ob servations on the Manners of the Romans ; and a considerable portion of the informa tion contained in the Twenty-ninth and * Except the description of Ithaca, and part of Cephalo- nia, which I drew up from ray own Notes. PREFACE. XU1 Thirty-second Letters, as well as the docu ment respecting the JNlineralogy of Elba, was communicated to me by a gentleman of high literary eminence, whose long re sidence in Italy gave him the best oppor tunities of information, and whose intimacy I deem one of the greatest pleasures of my life. In the progress of the Letters through the press, some inaccuracies have escaped, which the intelligent reader will easily correct, and which, I trust, his candour will forgive. Edinburgh, Sd December 1819. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. LETTER I. Page Ostend. — A fair or kinoes. — Popinjay. — Harbour. — Lighthouse. — Track-boat Bruges Scenery Ca thedral. — Nunnery, - - 1 LETTER II. Ghent — Church of Saint Brevon Scenery Alost. —Brussels. — Cathedral Peter the Great High Mass, - - . 10 LETTER III. Waterloo. — Field of battle Namur. — Huy. — Liege. — Aix la Chapelle. — Cologne, - - 15 LETTER IV. Husbandry. — Bonn. — Flying Bridge.— Andernach. — Coblentz — Neideringelheim. — Castles on the Rhine. — Mayence Manheim. . — Heidelberg Inns. — Ba den. — Assembly. — Anecdote of Napoleon.— Anec dote of the Prince of Baden, - 24 LETTER V. Geneva. — Black Forest. — Hercynian Forest. — Basle. — Holbein — Swiss Painters. — Scenery between Basle and Soleure. — Alps. — Swiss Cottages. — Orbe. — Lau- XVI CONTENTS. Page sanne. — LakeofGeneva. — Geneva. — Arveand Rhone. — Landscape Painters, 34 LETTER VI. Milan.— Vales of Cleuse and Servos. — Vale of Cha- mouni. — Alpine Scenery. — Valossen and Tetenoire. — Trient. — Plain of the Valais. — Simplon. — Domo d' Ossola Lago Maggiore. — Milan Leonardo da Vinci Ambrosian Library Appearance of Milan, 43 LETTER VII. Parma. — Lodi. — Piacenza, — Francisco Mochi — Ca thedral — Church of St Augustine Church of St John. — Parma Correggio. — Parmigiano. — Paintings by Correggio. — Caraccis. — Schidone. — Guercino. — Procaccini. — Prize Pictures. — Library.— Museum of Antiquities at Valeia, - - - 51 LETTER VIII. Modena and Bologna. — Modena. — The Palace and Pictures. — Academy, and ancient and modern Paint ings. — Bologna. — Pictures returned from Paris. — Paintings from the suppressed Monasteries. — Maris- calchi Palace and Pictures. — Church of San Petro- nico. — Fountain in the Piazza del Giganti. — View from the Tower of Asinelli, - - 63 LETTER IX. Florence. — Pietra Mala. — View from the Tower of Forabosche. — Statues in the Palazzo Vecchio.— Piazzo del Granduca and Loggia de Lanzi. — Her cules and Centaur, near the Ponti Vecchio, - 71 CONTENTS. XVU LETTER X. Page Florence. — Remarks on the Series of Ancient Pictures in the Corridor, and Statues and Pictures in the Tribune, - 66 LETTER XI. Florence. — Pictures of the Venetian School. — Tuscan School. — DutchSchool. — Flemish and GermanSchool. — Description of a Landscape by Claude. — French School. — Observations on the Origin of Landscape- Painting in the Grand Style. — French School con tinued. — Portraits. — Salle de Frate. — Some account of the various grounds which several of the Painters have used. — Copyists. — Statues of the Niobe Family. — Observations on Mr Cockerell's idea regarding the Niobe Marbles. — Rubens' Battles, and entry of Henry IV. into Paris, in the Salle de Niobe. — Statue of the Hermaphrodite. — Bronzes and Gems. — Mar bles in the Corridor. — Observations on the measur ing of Statues, - - - - 101 LETTER XII. Florence.— The Cathedral. — Santa Croce. — Tomb of M. Angelo. — Santissima Annunziata. — Votive Offer ings. — Organs. — Sopranos. — Pulpits. — Chapel de' Depositi M. Angelo's Statues Ghiberti's Gates. — Prison Madhouse Santa Maria Nuovella. — So ciety called the Buonuomini di San Martino. — And Society of Misericordia, - - - 1 30 LETTER XIII. Florence Academy delle Belle Arte Its Pictures, Casts, Drawings, &c Character of the Prize Pic tures. — A more extensive Study of Nature recom- VOL. I. b XV111 CONTENTS. Page mended. — Rules of the Academy in regard to admis sion of Students, Prizes, &c. — Porcelain Manufac tory. — Artists. — Bartolini, Benvenuti, &c. — Morg- hen the Engraver. — Canova's Venus, compared with the Venus of Cleomenes, ... 144 LETTER XIV. Florence. Description of the Pictures in the Palaz zo Pitti, and likewise the Palaces Corsini, Gerini, Mozi, Ricardi— Palace of Marquis Amelio Piici, and Pandolphini, - - - 154 LETTER XV. Florence.— Visit to the three Sanctuaries, Vallombro- sa, Camaldoli, and La Verna. — Reflections on Mo nastic Institutions, - - .180 LETTER Xyi. Leghorn. — Road to Pisa. — Tower of San Miniato. — Pisa. — Road to Leghorn. — Remarks on Brilliancy of Colouring. — Leghorn.— Taste for Dancing. — La zarettos. — Fate of Dr Smollet's Diploma.— Remarks on Cemeteries, - - 192 LETTER XVII. Elba.— Coast of Italy from Leghorn to Populonea.— Fishing of Anchovies— Elba. — Palace of Napoleon. — Napoleon. — His Improvements and Popularity. — Revenue of Elba.— Political importance. — Appear ance of the Country. — Game. — Noxious Animals, 204 LETTER XVIII. Elba. — Agriculture. — Vineyards.— Terras of Tenure. CONTENTS. XIX Page —Want of Grain. — Fruit Trees. — Wines- — Malaria. —Count Strasoldo.— Fossi Family, - 216 LETfER XIX. Quarry of White Marble.— Napoleon's Country House at San Martino. — -Lucera. — Volterrajo. — Monte Cristo. — St Piero and Ilario. — Granite Pillars at Sacchett*.— Pianoso. — Poggio. — Water Spouts. — Napoleon's Departure.— Sketch by Napoleon.— .Napo leon believed to be in England. — Tunny Fishery.— Variety of Fish. — Magnetic Mountain. — Elbese Sail ors.— -Populonia. — History of Elba, - - 227 LETTER XX. Florence. — Return to Florence by Lucca. — Baths of Pisa. — Lucca. — Baths of Lucca.— Observations on sketching rapidly. — Pistoia. — Prato, - 242 LETTER XXL Peuugia.— Road to Rome. — Arezzo.— Pictures in the Cathedral. — Italian Sky. — Intrinsic beauty of Dew Drops. — Lake of Thrasimene Perugia. — Pictures, Academy, and Buildings. — Pictures by Raphael, Pe rugino, and Guide— Observations on giving such. pictures to youth to study from. — Casa della Penna. —Petrifying Spring of San Phillipo, applied to the formation of Casts, ... 249 LETTER XXII. Rome. — Journey to Rome. — Foligna Temple of Cli- tumnus. — Spoleto. — Terni. — Narni. — Otricoh. — Ci- vita. — Castellana. — NepL — Arrival at Rome, - 267 XX CONTENTS. LETTER XXIII. Fage Rome.— Panorama from the Top of the Capitol. — Sketch of the interior of St Peter's, - - 284 LETTER XXIV. Rome.— Rome as it appears from elevated situations. — Gates Streets Palaces Varied Population — Shops Inferior streets Destruction of ancient marble. — Squares Obelisks. — Churches. — Exter nal effect of St Peter's. — Pantheon — Remains of an tiquity preserved in the walls, ... 292 LETTER XXV. Rome. — The Ruins by Moonlight Column of Trajan. — Temples of Nerva, Pallas, and Peace Coliseum, and Ruins in the ancient Forum, ... 299 LETTER XXVI. Rome. — The Borghese Collection of Paintings, - 303 LETTER XXVII. Rome Ruins of Rome Their interest to the Anti quary and Painter. — The use made of them by the old Masters. — The profusion of materials and facili ties for composition, pointed out by Claude, Poussin, and Domenichino. — Conduct of the modern Artists. — State of the Arts in Rome The example of the British Painters may tend to the resuscitation of Ita lian Art. — Sculpture. — Remarks on Canova's and Thorwaldson's works, a comparison between them Appearance of their Studios — Gem and Copperplate Engraving — State of Architecture. — Hints to plant- ing in Edinburgh, - S18 12 CONTENTS. XXI LETTER XXVIII. Page Rome. — Pictures in the Gallery of the Vatican. — Michael Angelo's Fresco Painting of the Last Judg ment, and his Creation of Man in the Sistine Chapel, 334 LETTER XXIX. Rome. — Character of the Pope. — His Situation.— His Holiness's wish to establish a Catholic Bishop at Cor fu. — Mode of Introduction to the Pope. — Exiled Li terary Persons. — State of Papal Revenue 1817. — Cardinal RufFo. — Cardinal Fesch. — Dissatisfaction in the creating of a number of Cardinals. — Vatican Li brary. — Propaganda Fide. — Restoration of Ancient MS. to Germany. — Libraries. — Dr Sebastiano's re searches, ..... 34.8 LETTER XXX. Rome. — Indolence of the Roman Nobility. — Its causes. — Malaria. — Education of the Noblemen. — Their want of dignity — Morals of the Women. — Cavalieri Ser vients — Education of the Girls. — They go more to foreign society than formerly. — British Ladies do not associate much with the Italian Ladies. — Duke of B — 's Routes — Dress of the Italian Ladies. — Their Manners contrasted with those of Women of other Nations. — Conversation Room. — Gaming Room.— Music Room. — English Parties, - - 359 LETTER XXXI. Rome. — Ball at the Neapolitan Ambassador's. — Cha racter of a Roman Masquerade Want of Hospita lity — Character of a Converzatione. — Improvvisatores. — Amusements of the Peasantry. — Love Epistles written by people who make a Livelihood by them. — Fighting with Knives and Stones.— Contrasts in Rome, 373 XXU CONTENTS. Page Appendix, .... 385 No. I — Mineralogical Report, made by the Chief Engineer of the Grand Duke of Tuscany to his Serene Highness, respecting Elba, - 387 No. II.— Plants within the Coliseum, - - 389 TRAVELS i_r ITALY, GREECE, AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. LETTER I. Ostend. — A Jhir or kirmes — Popinjay. — Harbour, — Light- house. — Track-boat.— Bruges.Scenery. — Cathedral.— Nunnery. Mt Dear Sm, Bruges, July 1816. X ou know how reluctantly I yielded to your re quest, that I should transmit to you, with every opportunity, an account of all that we should hear or see worthy of notice, in the course of our tra vels : and I am now repenting, in good earnest, of my thoughtless facility. To myself, indeed, the field that lies before me is a field of the richest promise ; and my fancy seems already to realize the glowing picture which you pourtrayed of the countries which we are to visit ; countries which have long been celebrated for all that is lovely in nature, and exquisite in art. I anticipate, with the most ardent expectation, the pleasure which I shall enjoy in treading that soil which was conse crated by the first footsteps of Liberty, — in traver- voe. r. A OSTEND. sing the chosen haunts of the Muses, — in be coming a temporary inhabitant of those lands, which are endeared by all our earliest and most refined associations, and where the human mind display ed its noblest energies, — and in contemplating the most wonderful monuments of genius, amidst the- enchanting localities by which it was inspired. All this promises, to be sure, to be very delight ful ; but since all this has been so often enjoyed, and so well described by former travellers, shall I not be in danger either of repeating to you what you al ready know, or of eking out for you a meagre en tertainment from the gleanings which my prede cessors have left ? Be moderate, then, in your ex pectations. All that I propose is, to tell you, in my own way, what we see ; and, if my informa tion be not new, I promise you, at least, that it shall not be borrowed. On the 6th of July, (1816,) we took our passage for Ostend at an agent's office in Exeter 'Change, Our carriage was taken to pieces and properly shipped. This was no sooner done, tha.n we were informed that the vessel went no farther than to Ramsgate, where the carriage must be unshipped and put on board another packet. In short, we were deceived ; and I hereby give warning to all future travellers, to be more particular in their pre vious inquiries. Fortunately, when we arrived at Ramsgate, a vessel was ready to sail, and we KIUMES — POPINJAY. 3 were quickly transported to Ostend. We took up our quarters at the Hotel Wellington, in which, after a tolerable dinner, we were regaled with Champagne not much inferior to our Perry. In walking through the town, the first I had ever seen on the continent, our eyes, you may be sure, were not idle. A fair, or kirmes, had been held here for three days, and was to continue as many more. Nothing but rejoicing and merry-making prevailed. Of their various amusements, the most interesting to us was their archery, which carried back our recollection to the games of our ances tors, and seemed to place before our eyes the ori ginal mode of shooting at the popinjay. Prizes were given to the best marksmen, and certainly some of them were very expert. There was fixed in the ground a long pole, about sixty or seventy feet in height, at the top of which was fastened a horizontal bar of wood. On this were hung seve ral pieces of tin, resembling small birds in size and shape ; these they brought to the ground perhaps once in twenty shots. People from various parts of the country joined in this amusement, and high and low mixed together on the most familiar terms ; indeed, all distinction of rank seemed to be for the time forgotten. In one of the processions, headed by a band of music, I perceived various orders of the people, including military men, arti sans, peasants from the country, women, and even 4 HARBOUR — LIGHT-HOUSE. children. Such a set of merry, happy faces— Heraclitus himself, had he been there, must have caught the contagion of their gaiety, and joined, as we did with our whole souls, in their light- hearted laugh. The women of the lower orders were somewhat like our Highland shearers, but with this exception, that they all wore monstrous ear-rings dangling to their shoulders — not one of them was handsome. The piers of the harbour are composed of logs of wood driven into the ground, and apparently going to decay. To us, ¦ who had just left the bustle of the Thames, the stillness of Ostend har bour presented a most cheerless contrast. It re sembles, indeed, one of tjie deserted havens of the coast of Fife, rather than the port of a populous tovra, for it displayed not the slightest appearance of business. It is said that the Prince of Orange was ill-received, and that the Belgians would pre fer being under British protection. We were much pleased with the light-house built by Napoleon ; it is in good taste, and not unlike the column of Tra jan at Rome. The fortifications are already over grown with grass and plants. We were not allowed to walk on them, however, but were rudely ordered off by a Belgian soldier. At the customhouse, the officers, all French, examined our trunks, and re placed every article with a nicety peculiar to them selves : they were very civil ; indeed, they had no * TRACK-BOAT — BRUGES. 5 reason to behave otherwise, for we were upon our honour with them in every respect. A small per centage was paid for the carriage, and we were free. Matters being thus settled, we took our passage on board a track-boat for the town of Bruges. The boat was full of people, young and old, rich and poor. The evening smiled, and the effect of all was pleasing. It was impossible not to recognize here the land of Cuyp j and the scenes through which we glided, lighted up, as they were, with the beams of the setting sun, strongly recalled to our recollection the magical productions of his pencil. On board, we had a small band of music, consist ing of three girls and two men. The girls played the violin, the men a bass and flute ; and really their music was quite delightful ! After travelling fifteen miles in this agreeable man ner, through a country extremely flat, but rich and highly cultivated, we arrived at Bruges. This beau tiful town, in the days of its ancient importance, contained 150,000 inhabitants, but now it has not 30,000 at the utmost ; and several of the splendid houses and palaces are tenantless. The opening of the Scheldt destroyed its commerce, and the in habitants were obliged to go where trade was flourishing. We are living in the hotel called the Fleur de Bled, and every thing is comfortable, though not so clean as in our own good country. We have formed acquaintance with a gentleman O SCENERY — CATHEDRAL. who knows every nook and corner of the city. At our request he led us first to what is called the Tower, that, previous to any particular excursion, we might obtain some general idea of the situation and principal features of the surrounding scenery ; nor is it possible, without going to an elevated station, to obtain a just or comprehensive notion of the country of the Netherlands, or to ascertain, without much unnecessary labour, the objects most worthy of notice, or the points of view from which they may be seen or drawn to advantage. The extensive scene was rich in wood and cultivation ; few villages appeared, but every thing bespoke comfort, peace, and plenty. From the fields near the town, I was charmed with the variety and beauty of the public buildings, and the handsome spires and steeples. The tower on which we stood is singular and picturesque, and the churches of Jerusalem and Notre Dame are noble features. On entering the cathedral, every thing was en tirely new to me. No priest was present, but va rious descriptions of persons were on their knees ; some were in lonely places, in order to be free from interruption ; often their attitudes were beau tiful and interesting ; some with outspread arms, others with clasped hands, praying with the utmost fervour, and generally, as their fancy inclined them, before pictures, sculpture, or tapestry. At the high altar, there was a representation of the NUNNERY. 7 Virgin and Child, in wax, both coloured and dres sed like dolls, and not much larger than those which our little misses carry in their arms. A multitude of suppliants surrounded the altar, which was decorated with votive offerings in silver and gold, representing heads, legs, arms, and hearts, which had been cured by prayers before the Virgin. The hearts prevailed three to one, from which your philosophical head will probably infer that, in all countries, the heart-ach is the most pre valent malady ; and as a grave divine might per haps, with as much reason, conclude that religion is its most effectual cure. Innumerable small candles were burning, though it was then mid-day, and the sun was shining in the church j— a third light seemed yet awanting, and that was the light of reason. The pictures in the cathedral were not much above mediocrity. One or two had just arrived from the Louvre ; and 1 confess it excited my surprise, that the French should have thought of removing such indifferent productions of the pen cil. We visited various other churches, and found their internal appearance much alike. From the churches we were taken to a nunnery. On pre senting ourselves at the grate, in a small outer room which is approached through a court-yard, the Abbess appeared with gracious smiles. Our friend was known to her ; amd, after a little re- NUNNERY. spectful compliment arid inquiry, he asked if we might be allowed to see the chapel. With great politeness she consented. Her manner, which was such as shewed she .knew the world, correct ed in some degree the dismal ideas that we had formed of the monastic life. Availing ourselves of the Abbess's permission, we went to the place of worship, on entering which we were struck with its general air of purity and elegance. The walls and seats were white ; the altar, composed of va rious marbles and precious stones, graced the head of the church, at the opposite end to which was a gallery. Two pictures by Vandyke hung upon the walls, but they were by no means in the best style of that master. The Ascension was the sub ject of one, and a saint of the other. . In the for mer, the figure of Christ was tolerably drawn, and possessed great brilliancy of effect ; but the dark figure introduced for the purpose of aiding this appearance, is so injudiciously contrived and manag ed, that the artifice is offensively evident, and inter feres with the general sentiment of the subject. We had not been long in the chapel when a nun came forward in the gallery, in a slow and solemn manner, courtesying low. At first we thought the compliment was intended for us, but we soon perceived that her attention was directed to a cross placed in the middle of the gallery. A second and a third advanced in the same manner, NUNNERY. 9 and at last several came together. When as sembled, there might be from ten to twelve ; some were old, some were young, and very pale ; one seemed extremely beautiful. After they had been seated a short time, a novice rose and rung the convent bell, the rope of which hung from the roof in the middle of the gallery. We stopped no longer, fearing we might give offence ; but who could resist remaining in the outer room while they chaunted service ? It was affecting, and most sincerely did I wish that God might bless them. But what can I say of their voluntary retreat from the duties of the world ? Their self-denial may be a virtue, but I fear of little value. Lately several ro mantic ladies, two of whom, indeed, were relations of the gentleman who accompanied us, had formed the resolution of becoming nuns, but they soon changed their minds, and only one of six remained. On taking the veil, they must advance L.600 ; and, at their demise, their fortunes become the property of the establishment. When monastic institutions were suppressed by Bonaparte, this nunnery was spared, in consideration of its educating some young females gratis, and being in other respects most exemplary. To-morrow early we set off for Ghent and Brus» sels ; from the latter place you may expect to hear from me. LETTER II. Ghent.— Church of Saint Brevon.—Scenery. — Alost. — 'Brus sels. — Cathedral Peter the Great. ,-^-High Mass. Brussels, July 1816. The country through which we travelled from Bruges to Ghent was rich in various crops, some of whieh were already cut down ; barley and rye seemed to prevail. The roads were excellent, paved in the middle, but by no means rough. Ghent is a town of considerable extent, and of great beauty. The canals which intersect it, co vered with boats and barges, afford the finest sub jects for the pencil. Vangoen, or Vanderneer, could have been at no loss in choosing from such variety. The cathedral and churches are very fine, especially the church of Saint Brevon, which, it is said, is the oldest cathedral church in the world. The Crypt was the original place of wor ship, and is full of rotten pictures and mouldering saints. The present cathedral, which is very an cient, was built on the foundations of the old, and the crypt, which I have mentioned, is preserved in its primitive state. In the church, there are some specimens of the early school of sculpture, in very bad taste, frittered into small parts, and GHENT ALOST. 1 1 devoid of all resemblance to nature. The pic tures, in general, are by masters of no celebrity or talent, and excite disgust rather than pleasure. As for the wax dolls, I did not look at them a se cond time, lest I should be tempted to smile, when decorum required that I should be serious. Some of the public buildings are rather elegant, and there is a good display of steeples in the simple Gothic style. We mounted one of them to obtain a view of the country, which, in its general cha racter, bears a remarkable resemblance to the rich and splendid scenery which we saw from the tower of Bruges. Waterloo and Hobbima might have lived a hundred years, and not have exhausted the pleasing local subjects. Here they had endless variety of willow stumps, rich plants, and spark ling water, and the most interesting groups of cattle and rustic figures, composing with the mea dow fields and long horizons ; such, indeed, as Paul Potter, or Adrian Vanderveldt, needed only to copy faithfully, to have rendered their fame immortal. Our stay at Ghent was very short, which I re gretted much, as I knew that there were some private pictures of the Flemish masters, well de serving our attention. Alost, on the way to Brussels, is a pretty town. Trees mix with the buildings, which always have a good effect. We saw no beggars, but among the 12 BRUSSELS CATHEDRAL. children, who seem to be all beggars in this country, without exception, and whose importunity is ex tremely teasing. I pinched the ear of one, who was dressed like a little gentleman, and gave some money to a boy in rags, who was standing near, and was less clamorous. My Dutch was under stood ; the youth in fine clothes blushed and scam pered off. — Between Alost and Brussels, the crops were very luxuriant ; they consisted chiefly of hops and rye. Boys, from fifteen to seventeen years of age, were repairing the/"teads, and did their business well. Brussels is certainly a noble town, and many of the buildings are in excellent taste. But why so many sky-lights? The roof of the Hotel de Ville, which is very high, has no less than five successive rows, rising one above another. The cathedral, with its two towers, like Westminster Abbey, is well placed to give effect to the city, which is spread below, but the disproportioned height of the roof diminishes the consequence of the other parts of the building. There is also a strange jumbling of parts, out of harmony even with the Gothic. In general, the houses are very hand some, but within they display no purity of taste ; there is too much ornament,— too great an ambi tion of vulgar show. Of the gallery I can say but little. No doubt, there are a few good pic tures, but certainly not of the first class. The PETER THE GREAT. 18 best are those by Rubens. They have all the mastery of pencilling and witchery of colour pecu liar to that master ; but they also have his defects ; bustle and power of handling cannot conceal the want of drawing, and the mean conception of his female figures. I regret to say that they have been considerably injured, and cannot be repaired without being partially repainted. You will be little gratified, I fear, by this imperfect account of a gallery so famous, and may naturally expect, that I should' say some thing of the private collections in Brussels ; but our stay here was necessarily so short, that we had leisure for no more than a passing glance ;— a circumstance which we regretted the less, as we could more easily repeat our visit to this town, than to the more distant places, to which we are hastening. Do not fear, from this spe cimen, that I shall not endeavour to be particu lar in my description of the celebrated works of art, in which you feel so deep an interest, when we reach the cities which are the proper objects of our destination. From these beauties of art, we were led to the public gardens, where there is a fountain, immortalized by the circumstance of Peter the Great having tumbled into it. He was drink ing wine when he made this false step, and it is 14 HIGH MASS. but fair to suppose that his Majesty was a little tipsey. We are just returned from seeing high mass performed. Why such parading, courtesying, bow ing, muttering, crossing, and perfuming of the priests ? And must the soldiers kneel, cross them selves, and pray by word of command ? How like mummery is all this ! But the congregation ap peared devout, so let me not presume to censure. 1 have occasionally amused myself at a ball, by shutting my ears, which gave to my happy dan cing friends the appearance of automata. So the ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, to one not accustomed to its mysteries, must ever appear fantastic and unnatural. LETTER III. Waterloo. — Field of battle — Na mu r. — Huy. — L iege. — A ix- la- Chapelle. — Cologne. Cologne, July 1816. We left Brussels on the 11th, and arrived here on the 13th, after having visited the awful field of Waterloo. Tlie forest of Soigne has nothing re markable in its appearance. The road from Brus sels, as you well know, passes through it. After the battle it became a burial place for upwards of two thousand horses. They were interred along the sides of the road, and partly in the wood. Their bones are now shooting through the earth, and the air is much infected. Waterloo is a pretty little village, and the church, which for a considerable time ap peared a pleasing vista from the road, is very pic turesque. Service was performing when we arriv ed, and it was pleasing and affecting to see the peasantry peacefully engaged in their religious duties, after the scourge of war and battle. The tablets to the memory of many of our countrymen caught our eye, and failed not to excite our deep est interest. From Waterloo we went to visit the field of battle. We saw the shattered tree near which our immortal hero stood, at the happy moment 16 FIELD OF BATTLE. when he saw the Prussians advancing, led on by Bulow. The barn, farm, and fields of La Haye Sainte, exhibited striking memorials of the horrors of that dreadful day ; especially the barn, the walls of which are frightfully splashed with blood, — and well they might, for the floor, which is of great ex tent, was ancle deep ! The field of burial would affect the hardest heart : although under crop, the graves are quite perceptibleby the rank dark green corn which waves over them. The heroes were buried at various distances, according to the havoc and destruction on the spot. Some of the graves were six, eight, ten, and twelve feet asunder, but they thinned as they receded from the point where the battle raged in its greatest fury, — as the thunder of artillery, which bursts at first in one rending peal upon the ear, gradually dies away in faint and distant echoes. One poor Frenchman was yet un buried I we found him lying a prey for the hun gry dogs ! What could be more horrible than this mouldering body in its uniform ! What a more emphatic satire on the ferocity and the weakness of man ! I will not shock you with the various accounts which we have heard of the dead, the wounded, and the dying j even to think of them is distressing. . The track by which Napoleon slunk away, after crying " sauve qui peut," is just above the inn at Gertappe, upon a rising ground. Bones of men NAMUR — HUY. 17 and horses are lying here and there, and the ra vens may still find food upon them. At Quatre Bras, the natives were eloquent in praise of the gallant Highlandmen. The appearance of battle is every where : not a house but is completely rid dled by bullets and by cannon shot. I looked at them till my fancy was so engaged in the tumult of battle, that I thought my head was hardly safe upon my shoulders. Namur, on the confluence of the Sambre and the Meuse, was the next place of any consequence that we visited. On approaching it, we found it seated on a plain surrounded by swelling hills at no great distance. These hills, although not lofty, were a pleasing variety, from the monotonous coun try through which we have passed. The town itself has a most agreeable character for picture ; the dome and cupola are here exchanged for Gothic towers and spires. Namur is celebrated for mine rals, marble, and alum. It was not till we were near Namur that we perceived rocks of any kind, and this suggests to my recollection, that in Bel gium we have remarked only sand, chalk, and gravel. From Namur we proceeded to Huy upon the Meuse. Picturesque beauty is not wanting there. The town and cathedral stand at the bottom of lofty rocks, and afford the most agreeable subjects for the pencil. We arrived when a few golden streaks were seen behind the towers, which were VOL. I. B 18 LIEGE^ — CATHEDRAL. reflected in the expansive water. The solemn and tranquil effect of all was most grateful and impressive. The country from Huy to Liege is hilly, well wooded, and in good cultivation. There is every where an appearance of plenty, yet beggar® are numerous. Choquiere, the seat of General Loisson, is one of the finest subjects that occur in this part of our journey. It stands high upon a noble bank, and overlooks the river; the rocks are picturesque ; the wood, however, is but poor and scanty. The entrance into Liege, as we advanced along the river, presents a favourable view of the ca thedral and churches ; indeed, water and trees, whenever they mix with buildings, impart to them a degree of interest, and never fail to please. The high roof still prevails. From the multi plicity of windows I was led to suppose, that the inhabitants pay no duty for window light : but I was mistaken ; fifteenpence is paid for each, and for a carriage entry five and twenty shillings annually. There is something singular and agreeable in the architecture, though, perhaps, it is somewhat disfi gured by too great a profusion of ornament. We were told that the finest collection of paint ings was in the cathedral. The picture by Lairesse, representing Moses with the Commandments, is per haps the best : some of the heads are painted in a firm and masterly style, but the figures are crowded to- COLOGNE — RUBENS. 19 gether in an awkward manner, and totally destitute of dignity. The picture by Carlier is deep-toned, but spotty and affected. Quilline is a master of some merit in the soft style of Murillo, but much inferior. The subjects are all scriptural, and very tiresome. There is nothing very striking in the scenery between Liege and Aix la Chapelle. I would almost prefer the positive level of the Netherlands, which, from its unbroken line, is somewhat allied to beauty. The ancient city of Charlemagne looks well from the ramparts. The Hotel de Ville, the Cathedral, and other buildings, assemble well to gether, and I think may fairly claim the attention of the man of taste. Cologne, the birth place of Rubens, received us next within its ancient walls. The church of St Peter contains the celebrated picture of the crucifix ion of that saint. When I entered the church, I was on the tip-toe of expectation. The picture is con sidered one of the chef d'ceuvres of Rubens' pen cil, and was in high estimation in the Louvre. We were told it graced the high altar ; but con ceive my disappointment, when, on approaching it with an anxious eye, I found a very indifferent copy. I was turning from it in disgust, when the verger requested me to stop ; and, without any ceremony, he removed silver candlesticks, lowers, and all the paraphernalia of Roman Ca- 20 CRUCIFIXION OF ST PETER BY RUBENS. tholic worship, which stood before the copy, and then went behind the altar, and turned round upon a swivel the painting by Rubens. It was like the sun rising in splendour, and appeared the finest picture I ever saw of that great master. The principal figure is generally well drawn, with* out the slightest approach to vulgarity or manner ism. In colour it is faultless, and the effect is striking and commanding, although seen under a window of stained glass, with all the bustle and arrogance of meretricious brilliancy. The principal light is in the middle of the picture on the breast of St Peter, of a warm yellowish fleshy tone. The opposing figures are swarthy and brown, one of them with a little drapery purely red ; blue and , cold colours appear at the top and sides of the pic ture. As a proof of the veneration which the people of Cologne have for this magnificent work iof art, I may inform you that, when it returned ''from the Louvre, it was carried in procession through the streets, and in front of the house of Rubens, where Professor Hardie delivered an eloquent oration on its merit : when it was taken to the church of St Peter, it was received by all the clergy in full costume, and with as much cere mony as if it had been St Peter himself that was visiting them. This picture was a present to the church in which Rubens was baptized, and had its day of adversity. RUBENS— «FILP KALF. 41 The priests, ignorant of its merit and its value, placed it in some obscure place without any regard to its preservation : this circumstance reaching the ear of Rubens, he offered 5000 crowns to have it returned to him, assuring them it was one of the best pictures he had ever painted. The priests be gan to stare ; and, awakened at length to a sense of the value, if not the merit, of the treasure which they possessed, they determined to keep it to themselves. They have done so, but the gentle hint has been the means of preserving the picture from destruc tion. — The font in which Rubens was baptized is shewn with great pride. From the church we went to the house in which that great painter lived, No. 10, Rue de Tival. At present it is occupied by a coachmaker, who very po litely shewed us every room. It is an excellent house still, and there is a good deal of ancient carving in one of the rooms, in which Mary of Medicis, after being forced to quit Paris, lived and died. She sub sisted on the charity of the monks, for whom she entertained the most bigoted devotion ; the leaden roof remains on which she walked. In the cathedral we were shewn a picture by Filp Kalf, date 406, a painter of whom I never heard. The. drawing and colouring are excellent, and in design it is not inferior ; the subject is the adoration of the Magi. Can you imagine a work of , Guido founded in some degree on a 22 FILP KALF — SCULLS OF KINGS. fine specimen of Albert Dufer? This will en able you to form some idea of the picture. In colour it is fresh as day, and Rubens himself might have been proud to own it. The Prince Royal of Prussia is getting a copy of part of the picture executed by an artist of Cologne. As far as he has gone, he is much inferior ; spare and meagre in his colouring, without surface or that transparency which appears in the texture of the original. When the French were ransacking every church for celebrated works of art, the bishop had this picture covered with wax to hide it from their sacrilegious eyes. During the revolution, how ever, when Cologne was French, the clergy had the wax taken of, and hung up the picture, which the French government allowed to remain. So much for Filp Kalf, who, had he lived in the golden age. of art, might have been not inferior to Raphael or Correggio. In some of the private houses I have seen many pictures of very early date, surprising in richness and colour, but in general very ill drawn, and as ill conceived. The beau ideal excited a little risibility ; grace and purity of taste was ac quired by slow degrees. Notwithstanding their many faults, however, I could trace in them several plagiarisms of Rubens and Vandyke. I should have mentioned, that, in the ca thedral may be seen the sculls of three kings who were said to have worshipped at the birth SCULLS OF KINGS. 23 of our Saviour. They were brought from Mi lan at the sacking of that city, and presented to the church by the Duke of Haenstoff'en. I saw them not, notwithstanding they have rubies stuck in the sockets of their eyes. The manner of ex hibiting them is rather curious. First a huge key is taken to open a door that leads to a coffer, which requires a second key to open it ; this coffer con tains a third key, which, being presented to a door within, discloses another coffer with a fourth key ; this must be inserted into a padlock, which con tains the key of the mysterious door leading to three v. lute sculls adorned with precious stones ! The names of the three kings were Caspor, Melihior, and Balthasar. LETTER IV. Husbandry— Bonn— Flying Bridge— Andernach — Coblentz — Neideringelheim — Castles on the Rhine — Mayance — Manheim — Heidelberg — Inns — Baden — Assembly — Anec: dote qf Napoleon — Anecdote of the Prince qf Baden. Baden, July 1816. From Cologne to Bonn the country is flat, and presents few pleasing or interesting features. The roads are good ; and in travelling along the Rhine the eye is gratified with some variety. The vine yards, however, do not contribute to the beauty of the scenery, any more than as many currant bushes. The vine is low, and totally devoid of picturesque effect. Husbandry, in all its details, seems to be here in a very backward state. Oxen, and some times even cows, are used instead of horses, to drag the heavy and unwieldy carts of the country. I sincerely wish some kind Briton would send the Germans a plough and a good model of a cart. Not a thrashing-machine is here to be seen. In short, they are a hundred years behind ; yet the country looks well, and the crops, thanks to the fertility of the soil, are good. Their hay-fork is made exactly after the model of Neptune's trident. Bonn is a pretty town. Some of the buildings FLYING BRIDGE — ANDERNACH. 25 are regular and good ; but the views on the Rhine are overpowered by the size of the river ; the dis tant banks, and hills, and castles, shrink into nothing, and require to be assisted by the aid of stormy skies. This is all I can say of Bonn, and of the surrounding scenery. The flying bridge, or float, is curious, and large enough to take over 700 or 800 people at a time. It does not go across the river with its prow foremost, but, being moored to anchors in the middle of the river, it swings from one side to another, according to the direction of the helm, the current of the water being the only impelling force. It, of course, invariably arrives at the precise point of its desti nation, and generally in the same space of time. On our way from Bonn to Andernach, we met with some fine subjects for the painter. Of these, the most interesting was an island contairring a convent. It had all the appearance of a happy island, — crowned with lofty trees, beneath the shade of which the nuns might walk unseen, and enjoy the scenery. Its reflection in the river was un broken and serene, saving a line of silver light, produced by a pendent branch, which hung on the glassy surface of the water. Rhynic, too, which stands upon a lofty bank, will not be passed with out regret, if time will not permit delineation. Andernach, with its steeples andcurious towers, affords a choice of picture seldom to be surpassed. 6 26 ANDERNACH COBLENTZ. The towns which we have hitherto seen are mostly fortified, and the outworks are extremely beauti ful, reminding one of the paintings of our favour ite masters. We have only seen one intoxicated person since we came into this country. Indeed, the peasantry seem an honest, sober, and devout set of people. Yet we have been told, and by one that knows them well, that, after a hearty prayer or two, they think they have atoned for former sin, and are at liberty to proceed upon another score. If this eharge is true, their appearance and exter nal deportment are abundantly deceitful. I can not soon forget a poor infirm old woman, whom I saw in a lonely sequestered church-yard, praying with much apparent fervour before a crucifix ; her withered arms stretched out and opposed to the last golden streaks of the setting sun. She cer tainly was sincere, and who would not have wished that heaven might protect her ? On leaving Andernach, we found the banks of the Rhine studded with castles, some of them very picturesque, but generally much alike in situation and in form, and built upon a similar plan. The same high watch tower springs up in all of them. Coblentz presents, to the man of taste, innumer able attractive subjects of study. The buildings, generally, are good, and associate Well together. The Rhine Hows beneath the walls, and brings up vessels of various descriptions, which take their part COBLENTZ— NEIDERINGELHEIM. 27 with other objects, and form delightful composi tions. The Castle of Ehrenbreitstein, in airy mantle, crowns the whole. This famous castle was destroyed by the French, along with every other building of note in the neighbourhood. Near the scene of ruin, there is a monument erected by the French, in commemoration of the Russian cam paign under Napoleon the Great, in the year 1812. Underneath is written : " Seen and approved of by the Russian commandant at Coblentz, 1814." The towns are very unlike those of Scotland, sin gularly shaped and whimsical, both in their exter nal and external appearance, with projecting roofs and narrow streets. From Coblentz we proceeded to St Goar. The banks of the majestic Rhine are still covered with castles, villages, and towns ; but what appears most remarkable to the traveller is the extent and luxu riance of the vineyards. Where can a market be found for all the wine which they must produce ? The Rhenish wine from the butt is ojood. Hock is seldom met with by the traveller. The best is said to be made on the estate which now belongs to Marshal Blucher. The village of Neideringelheim has little to re commend it, except the ruins of the Pailace of Charlemagne. Of the marble pillars which once adorned it, none remain but a few paltry fragments in the church. Nevertheless, insignificant as they 28 CASTLES ON THE RHINE— MAYANCE. appear, they will excite much interest, as associated with the memory of that illustrious prince. 1 write to my friend as occasion will permit. On looking over my Journal, I find I have not noticed some of the villages, towns, and castles, which ap peared to me to be admirable subjects for drawing. Capella, beyond Coblentz, Brawbach, Castle Mause, town of Wilmich, and Rheinfels, are all interest ing ; but they are eclipsed by the Castle of Rhin- vald, whose varied towers and crumbling walls are irresistibly attractive to the painter. The castles of Rhinvald and Ehrenbreitstein, however, are the only two which can be compared to our magnificent castles in Wales. Though many of the others are very large, still they want that ap pearance of grandeur and strength, which so de cidedly characterizes our noble buildings. At Bucharac are the remains of a Gothic chapel, situ ate above the town, upon a gently sloping hill, and well worthy of a little study. Mayance we merely passed through, and crossed its bridge of boats. As a town, it is superior to Coblentz. The churches and the steeples are pe culiar, but their red colour is not agreeable to the eye, especially as there is no green to harmonize with it. There was considerable bustle in the river ; numerous boats and barges were plying in various directions, which gave it life and spirit. The white and fleecy clouds, when they appeared be- MANHF.1M — HEIDELBERG. 29 hind the buildings, neutralized them, and rendered their colour more agreeable. Manheim might perhaps be denominated a handsome town, were not the streets so much alike, that it is scarcely possible to distinguish one from another. The palace of the Duke of Baden is very extensive, but in bad repair. Its gallery of pictures is indifferent ; and I may truly say, that, with the exception of half a dozen, the rest are trash. A little picture by Waterloo pleased me much ; the subject was, a few trees, with a wind ing road and figures ; the whole was well expressed, and finished without apparent labour. Indeed, I was surprised to see such a mellow production from the hand of such a master. The picture of Christ before Pilate, by Rembrandt, is the finest in the gal lery, and may be said to shine among the dark and dismal works around it. I was pleased to see, in one apartment, a fine collection of the best English prints. Woolett's engravings seemed to be the favourites ; they were elegantly framed, and some were proofs, on Indian paper. Former ly there was an academy in the palace, but it is now neglected. The Prince prefers smoking and drinking to encouraging the arts, or even to other duties of high importance. Heidelberg was the next place of any note that we visited. Its castle and palace are superb, and far surpass in grandeur any thing we have yet seen 30 HEIDELBERG — INNS. in Germany. Their commanding situation, upon the hill which overlooks the town, is peculiarly striking ; and perhaps there are few objects better adapted to gratify the admirer either of beautiful nature or superior art. From the garden of the palace, — the composition of the buildings, with the flat country below ; the sweeping river, reflecting the morning sun ; the town enveloped in the curl ing smoke ; the bridge and wooded banks are quite complete, and defy the pencil to surpass their charms. Of course, we saw the famous tun, now without a drop of wine. The French must have drunk hard, to have emptied such a wooden tower. Our stay at Heidelberg was very short. Hither to we have found the inns extremely comfortable ; yet I wish that they were furnished with bells ; or at least that those which are put up, were rendered serviceable. We have seen none that could be rung ; and, to our surprise, we found a swallow's nest upon the hinge of one at Carlsruhe, in the principal room for strangers. The dress of the peasantry, male and female, is very fantastical, and extremely unbecoming. The men wear large cocked hats, while working in the fields ; and the women are bundled up in such a quantity of clothes as entirely disguises their shape, and makes them ap pear as if they wore hoops. Their hats, too, are of a monstrous size, flat, and like a sieve upon their heads. Poppies, generally bearing a pale pink flower, seem BADEN ANECDOTE OF NAPOLEON. 31 to be the principal crop, poppy oil being an article in great request. Small chapels and crucifixes are very numerous along the roads, and seem to be regarded with great reverence. I remember only one instance of mud being thrown at them. Baden, a celebrated watering-place, will engage us for a day. It is seated among lofty wooded banks, and is as gay and lively as one can well ima gine. Balls, fairs, libraries, public walks, and fashionable amusements, occupy the fleeting hours. We attended a grand assembly in the palace, where there were several princes, princesses, and nobility of various ranks and fortunes ; and, notwithstanding the decorations of stars and ribbons, they were a sor ry-looking set. In general the German ladies were not superior in appearance to the hostesses of our public-houses. The men were rather better ; but, really, an ancient German baron is not the most magnificent thing that we can see. The Duchess of Ragusa eclipsed every figure of female kind ; and, consequently, the glances of envy were seen flying from the strangest forms ! There were, how ever, some pretty girls, and we found the Prince Royal of Baden chose them for his partners in the waltzes. The ball was on a Sunday evening ! Among the principal characters was the Coun tess of L , who, I am informed, was so great a favourite of Murat's, that his queen thought pro per to be a little jealous, and complained of her to 32 ANECDOTE OF THE PRTNCE OF BADEN. Napoleon, who gallantly threatened to insult the! countess on the first opportunity that occurred. One evening, in his palace, he accidentally spilt some coffee on a lady's dress, and, turning to make his apology, he was suddenly smitten with her beauty. A pretty little flirtation commenced, in consequence of which he lost his heart. His fair conqueror was no other than the Countess L , and his imperial majesty became the humble slave of the lady whom he had rashly threatened to af front. In return for her sweet and condescending manners, he married her to the Count of L. The Countess is now a widow, and, if I am not mis taken, is still employed by the God of Love to subdue the unwary heart, Since I am in the way of gossiping, let me tell you that the Princess of Baden, daughter of Josephine, was forced upon the prince by Bonaparte, though his dislike for her was very great. Indeed, his highness would not live with her when Napoleon was in power, but no sooner was he forsaken by fortune, than he drew her to his bosom, and now imagines there is no such woman in the world. What think you of the mag nanimity of this smoking prince ? The number of petty princes in Germany is much deplored by enlightened people. All of them are poor, which enables rich offenders to escape from jus tice. The other day a wealthy Jew committed mur- ANCIENT CASTLE OF BADEN. 33 der ; he confessed the deed and was condemned ; but his wealth afterwards purchased his acquittal. Now he is quite at large, following his pursuits as usual. Thank heaven! there are no such doings in good Old England ! The ancient castle of Baden stands on a roman tic hill clothed with wood, forming part of the Black Forest. It is now a solitary ruin, and pro digious trees wave against its time-worn sides. On enteringthe subterraneous passagesand dismal vaults, I heard the most tender strains of music ; it was like enchantment for a time, and greatly excited my surprise ; at last I discovered that it was the harp of _32olus — seemingto mourn for ancient times. The instrument had been placed among the crumb ling walls by an Englishman of taste and feeling. Adieu ; you shall hear from me when I reach Geneva. VOL. I. LETTER V. GENEVA. Black Forest Hyrcanian Forest — Basle — Holbein — Swiss Painters. — Scenery between Basle and Soleure. — Alps — Swiss Cottages. — Orbe Lausanne. — Lake qf Geneva. — Geneva Arve and Rhone. — Landscape-Painters. We left Baden on the 29th of July, and passed along the verge of the Black Forest, through many small and pretty towns. It was a market-day at Offenburg, and never certainly did I behold a more singular and strange looking peasantry. The women resembled bales of cloth, without form or shape, and the girls seemed bundles of the same material ; not a pretty face was to be seen among them, old or young. The character of the Black Forest, as seen from our road at the distance of four miles, was very picturesque. Castles appear on the tops of the hills, relieved by mountains covered with pines ; behind them, the clouds frisked about, and offered, to our hearts content, incidental effects of the most delightful and varied character. I was as busy sketching in my mind, as if I had se riously set to work with my paper and my pencil. The steeple of Fribourg is singularly beautiful ; the spire, perforated in various ornaments, gives it a surprising elegance and lightness. From Fri- HYRCAN1AN FOREST. — BASLE. 35 bourg the Vosges on the right edge the rich and lovely plain of Alsace. All the mountains of the Hyrcanian Forest, on the left, except a few cul tivated patches, are covered to the very tops with brushwood. The wild boar's haunts would be the painter's, were he safe from that ferocious animal. No separation of property appears ; and, indeed, the traveller might suppose himself in a nobleman's domains. There are no detached cottages, for the peasantry live in villages. The better sort of houses have a grand appearance, yet they are without com fort. Many of them are picturesque, but the wood work in all is very clumsy and heavy, probably be cause timber is so abundant, that it may be had even for the cutting. When wood is scarce and dear, the smallest piece is turned to good account ; and light ness and elegance are often suggested by necessity. Till wood becomes less plentiful, I am afraid we must not look for taste in German habitations. The approach to Basle in Switzerland is delight ful to the eye ; the Rhine flows among rich mea dows and fields of golden grain. As a town, Basle is by no means handsome. The streets are narrow, the houses white, with roofs of dark brown tiles : even from the river, including the ten arched bridge, it forms no picture. In the principal library we saw some curious manuscripts, the proceedings of the Council of Basle, the Epistles of Erasmus, and other learned men, the four Evangelists in Greek of the tenth century, &c. 36 HOLBEIN. — SWISS PAINTERS, Holbein was a native of Basle, and it contains many of his works. In the library, in particular, several of them are to be seen : the cabinet, on which is painted Christ's passion, is extremely beautiful, without hardness. I was surprised to find a work of so much ease and splendour from the hand of this master, whose works, in general, are rather deficient in ease. His pictures of Eras mus and Sir Thomas More are full of nature. A panorama of the Lac de Thun is on exhibition here, and, like the works of all the Swiss artists, is full of minute and trifling detail, without point or story ; an insipid catalogue of objects, in which no one takes the lead. Why do they neglect the machinery of nature in such a country ? Can they not seize the stormy skies, and fling them among the lofty pinnacles, and oppose the dark and solemn pines to virgin snows ? Is the train of grandeur to be despised ? Have the awful mountains, and stu pendous precipices, no claims to those ghastly lights which, struggling in their progress from the sun through the clouds and storms of such su blime regions, reflect, as it were, upon the soul of man, and impress it with horror ? Shame on the narrow mind that can see only a vapid outline, and paltry littleness ! From Basle we travelled to Soleure, meeting with castles, and ever-varying scenery. Some of the deep vales were clothed with black pine, and bounded by mountains of the deepest blue, with BASLE TO SOLEURE. ALPS. 37 mists and clouds clinging to their sides, and some times flying off with their feathery edges, tinged with the setting sun ;— exciting in our minds the most romantic reveries. Imagine among these quiet and solitary scenes of grandeur, when, but one line of golden light was left to contend with purple darkness, the effect of the solemn toll of a cathe dral bell, heard from afar. Ah ! why, I know not ; but it drew forth our tears. The marble church of Soleure is very beautiful, and in good proportion ; but marble does not please the eye so well as stone : it always inter feres with other objects, and, as far as relates to landscape scenery, is too white and overpowering. On lofty mountains, however, and in dashing cata racts, white will always be agreeable, because it is natural. Our first view of the Alps of the Grisons, with the young Frow piercing the horizontal clouds, was from the Lac de Bienne. Pictures give no idea of them, and I fear never can. The mind is struck with the wonderful work of God. Awe, solemn awe, fills the soul, in looking at these sub lime productions of his hand. When the sun was set to the world below, and the blue smoke of the peaceful cottage was ascending through gloomy shade, the Alps were glowing in the heavens ! The cottages of Switzerland are so well known to you, that I need not attempt to describe them ; be it sufficient to say, that, as subjects for picture, they 38 SWISS COTTAGES. — LAUSANNE. are quite inimitable ; but I must confess, I should in general prefer a part of one, with its interesting details, instead of a whole. The roof is often too high and unmeaning for painting. In travelling through the Canton of Berne, I was surprised at first to see no chapels on the road ; but recollecting that it is a Protestant canton, my wonder ceased. Shall I tell you, too, that the people had a more independent air, and were bet ter dressed, than in the Catholic countries through which we have passed? Every canton has its own costume, but I found none sufficiently simple, ex cept the purple vest, white sleeves, and straw hat* The good people here are all too fond of show. The country, from the Lac de Bienne to Neuf- chatel, is quite a country for a painter ; water, wood, and mountain in fine combination, continually solicit attention. Orbe, partly built by the Romans, stands prettily on a rising ground, andl think is fully as picturesque as any town we have yet seen in Switzer land. But Lausanne, which we afterwards met with ontheLake of Geneva, eclipses all; nor can one well conceive a more romantic town. And certainly, if ever there was an effect perfectly suitable to it, it was that which we were so fortunate as to see. The town, with its castle and various ornamented towers and spires, was finely opposed to the dis tant mountains, which were in delightful obscurity, and so reflected in the lake, that it was impossible to perceive the horizontal line : some white sails LAKE OF GENEVA. — GENEVA. 39 were seen, as it were, suspended in the vapour ; and the tops of the hills, which were above the silver mist, were smiling in the rosy gleam of the part ing day. The spires upon the towers, however, are certainly too small, and too sharp for the size of the buildings. The Lake of Geneva is finest at Lausanne. There are, however, innumerable noble scenes as we advance to Geneva, especially at Secheron, looking towards Mount Blanc, which, though at the distance of sixty miles as the crow flies, ap pears an enormous mountain, towering over a suc cession of stupendous hills ! You will naturally expect me to say a word or two about Geneva. No doubt, it is an interesting town in appearance, but it wants feature, and sure ly is not to be compared to Lausanne, either in re gard to situation or picturesque beauty. Perhaps I may be speaking treason ; but such is my own feeling, and it is that, I know, which you wish me to communicate. The houses of the former are better, more uniform and comfortable ; but there is a certain charm in the irregularity of the latter, which addresses itself to the mind, and I should think would always command the preference. The water from the Lake of Geneva is of a deep blue colour, and as it appears passing the wash ing boats on the Rhone, near the bridge, one would imagine it was impregnated with dye. In a glass it is quite clear, without the slightest tinge. 40 ARVE AND RHONE. LANDSCAPE-PAINTERS. The contrast of the Arve and the Rhone surprised me much, the latter being of the hue of whitish clay j the line between them was distinctly drawn, as they flowed along, and it is not till some time that the Rhone allows the muddy Arve to mingle with its pellucid water. The waves, too, of each are different, those of the Rhone are large and sweeping, while those of the Arve are more dis turbed and broken. Both rivers seem a Httle unnatural in colour, and would not be preferred in painting ; yet, as they are full of character, they must be represented as they are, and the eye will accommodate itself to their appearance. But the judicious artist will choose the season which will permit him to adopt such opposing tints, as will render them not unpleasing in picture, without departing from truth. Some landscape painters live in the house which Voltaire fitted up as a theatre . Those gentlemen say, Itahat they paint their pictures chiefly in the field : if OT^jt is surprising that there should be so little truth in any of their works. Such as are wedded to systems, and can see nature through them only, had better stay at home ; they will never be able to discover and appreciate her varied charms. In speaking of nature, I do not wish to be understood as meaning a few individual scenes ; but as refer ring to the nature of a country in general, the col lective perfections, and points of character, which satisfy the eye. Much may be gained, no doubt, LANDSCAPE-PAINTERS. 41 by studying single views or objects ; but compre hensive and distinguishing qualities are only ob tained and felt by extensive investigation. Our celebrated Turner is remarkable for this ; he does nothing at random ; every colour has a meaning, every contrast has a purpose, and all tending to give that full and perfect impression which alone can gratify the mind. * * Among some of the finest arrangements of colour in Swiss scenery, which I have selected from nature, I will venture to mention the three following: first, a splendid luminous effect with the sun upon the various objects ; secondly, a simple effect of light and shadow; and lastly, a stormy effect. These arrange ments will always produce a characteristic and pleasing har mony. First Effect. The sky is of a pure and delicate blue, with horizontal streaks of pale grey inclining to purple. If clouds are introduced, they should be light, yet chaste and subdued. Pure snowy Alps with little shadow; to these were opposed clay-coloured rocks sprinkled with snow ; next to these faint reds and sulphur- coloured vegetation. In the middle division of the scene ap peared greens of a decided colour, and brownish grey rocks ; approaching nearer the eye, dark and solemn pines, reddish and fawn coloured rocks. On the fore-ground crimson brown and pure greens with rich and powerful yellow, mingling with a variety of grey coloured earths. The great light was on the snowy mountains, and the deepest colour of the scene appear. ed below the most luminous part not immediately opposed to it, but in such a situation that the eye could take in at one glance the extremes of light and depth of colour, without the one intruding on the other. >i1 LANDSCAPE-PAINTING. Second Effect Simple Light and Shade. White mountains opposed to a pearly coloured cloudy sky, with streaks of pure blue, the shadows of the snow cold and of a silvery grey ; different mountains in shade of various tones of grey, reddish or warmer as they advanced, with snow thinly scattered on their summits, and in the deep ravines, combining the distant Alps with the subordinate moun tains which advanced towards the eye. Clay and fawn colour ed rocks, dark neutral green, a succession of faint green, olive, orange, yellow, reddish fawn, and a kind of satin wood hue of grey. The drapery of the figures white, red, and dark brown. Storm. In the sky dark and mysterious hues of grey ; some ap proaching to blue ; brassy-coloured hues mingled with solemn purple. Pure snow partly seen through clouds, and upon pinnacles above the storm. The snow in the shadow of a bluish cast, sometimes opposed against faint uncertain tones of yellow, or compound obscurity of strange and seemingly inharmonious colours of portentous aspect ; whitish, cop per-coloured dusky falling showers, grey rocks, but solemn in tone, and illuminated at top, and springing from misty vales : next, brown rocks and heathy mountains. Black pines, with red and grey stems, crumbling earths of various colours, drab, yellow, and pearly greys. The vegetation quit,e npon the eye, brown, subdued orange, and warm greens. LETTER VI. MILAN. Vales qf Cleuse and Servos. — Vale of Chamouni. — Alpine Sceucry V and the delicate finishing of the details. LETTER X. FLORENCE. Remarks on the Series of Ancient Pictures in the Corridor, and Statues and Pictures in the Tribune. The collection of pictures and statues in Florence ranks among the first in the world. In the Royal Gallery, the Tribune is enriched with the Venus de Medicis, and many precious marbles and paintings by Raphael, Correggio, and other celebrated mas ters. Various works of the different schools adorn some other apartments. The vestibule and cor ridors contain statues, busts of Roman emperors and empresses, portraits of great characters, to gether with a collection of the early works of the Tuscan school. To have even a superficial glance of this superb collection would require several days, and to give a just idea of it as many volumes. The Palazzo Pitti likewise boasts of some of the finest productions of the pencil, from Ra phael to Salvator Rosa, and all in the best state of preservation. Many other palaces, too, abound in pictures, though not of the highest class. The Corsini, Gerini, Mozzi, &c. the Academy della Bella Arte, and many of the churches, have ad mirable works in painting, &c. In short, Florence PICTURES IN THE CORRIDOR. 87 is well entitled to be called one of the principal seats of art, and those who have feeling and taste to enjoy its treasures, may be gratified to the ut most of their wishes. With the series of pictures by the early masters, to be seen in the corridors of the national collec tion, I have occasionally amused myself in en deavouring to trace the progress of taste and colour, but as they are not of the best specimens, and as the coUection is by no means complete, I did not advance farther than Gio. Belverti. The series, or history of art, begins with the stiff and gilded manner of the Greek artists of the ninth and tenth centuries, and from them advances through many hands, without any perceptible improvement, ex cept in drawing. The gilding gives way to a kind of Chinese style, without the slightest knowledge of perspective. With PoUajuolo, the style became bet ter in colour, and the attributes of the subject are more characteristic. AngeUco da Fiesole improved drawing and natural colouring. Lorenzo di Credi has a better taste for composition, and has departed from the monotonous upright attitude ; some of his figures he makes to kneel and others to recline, shewing a determination to go out of the beaten track. Ghirlandajo was not afraid of introducing a multiplicity of figures, in which there is often strong impression and natural character. Botticelli shews taste in the drawing of the hands. In the works ©f FUippo Lippi, the appearance of strong judgment 88 PICTURES IN THE CORRIDOR. is very perceptible, and certainly the composition of his figures and his subject is more agreeable to rule, than in the works of his predecessors, ex hibiting combinations both pleasing to the eye and consistent with truth. In this manner, design, colouring, and taste, travel in this series through the works of many painters/ chiefly of the Tuscan school, till some indication of grace, founded on ideal beauty, appears in the works of Francisco Cossa. His paintings, no doubt, betray a little de parture from nature ; but still they have grace, and present another view of art. Decided improve ment in colour begins with Girolamo Macchietti, whose pencil is not so meagre as any of the pre ceding painters. Then follow Andrea del Minga, Niccolo Betti, Gio. Maria Butteri, &c. Naldini indulges in ideal colouring, with uncommon ef fect. Lodovico Cardi, like Naldini, adopts ideal colouring; Lorenzo Lippi advances higher in the same department ; and Roselli loses himself in mys tery. This is a short sketch of part of the series, ac cording to its present arrangement ; but finding, that, although progressive improvement appeared in some particulars, it was lost in others, and that, from the indifferent specimens, no decided advancement appeared in the general view of art, I gave up pro ceeding any further till I should meet with a more satisfactory collection. In the Tribune the first object that caught our statues in the tribune. 89 admiring eyes was the Venus de Medicis ! The female delicacy of this statue cannot be surpassed, nor can the proportions of graceful fonn ! Casts give no idea of its divine perfections : why, I know not, but, compared with it, they are heavy, and even masculine. The finishing is exquisite, and the beauty of the hands and feet excite an inclination to touch them. It is well that the Venus repre sents no favourite saint, otherwise her pretty feet would be kissed away. " Does she want expres sion ?" lam afraid to speak. The Venus must be faultless, — else how could she have reigned over every heart for so many centuries ? The Young Apollo has much of the expression of a beautiful female, — especiaUy the head. The attitude is sweet and easy, and from the gentle yielding of the body, the most bewitching grace captivates the soul ! The feet are exquisite. The head of the Dancing Fawn is a restoration by Michael Angelo, and it appeared to me that the expression of the face has too much of age. The general air of the favourite statue is extreme ly pleasing, though it has a little cast of ine briety. The group of the Wrestlers, like the other cele brated marbles, is much admired. The subject being extremely difficult, required the hand and eye of a great and skilful artist. As far as re lates to the general character of youthful forms, they are very pleasing, but it cannot be denied that they want expression in the countenances, and 90 STATUES IN THE TRIBUNE. that energy and activity of body, which certainly would be strongly indicated in violent action. Would it not be natural for the fallen wrestler to exert himself to get the better of his antagonist, who is above him ? But no ! he is merely in an attitude, slightly knitting his brow, which may be said to have no meaning. The way, too, in which the conquering wrestler holds his adversary's hand, may be elegant, but it is not the grasp of power. The parallel stringy character of the legs is barely nature. In short, they are but statues, and we naturally go coldly up to criticise, instead of feeling the emotion of starting back, as we should do at such an exhibition in reality. The Knife Grinder is represented looking up wards, an attitude which, I suppose, the artist judged necessary, owing to the short and con tracted appearance of the figure. Had the sculp tor intended his subject to be in the act of list ening to the Cataline conspiracy, it might have been as well, had he introduced some subordi nate circumstance to illustrate his meaning ; from the expression of the countenance, it would be dif ficult to know to what it should be referred. The calf of the left leg, joined to the opposing thigh, and the right thigh and leg, are not of the most pleasing or natural forms ; but this, I fear, is speaking treason. The Knife Grinder has great admirers, and, I have no doubt, will always have, notwithstanding any observations that may be made against it. Many parts are good, and referable PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. 91 to nature, though the vulgarity of the slave seems the paramount expression. The pictures in the Tribune, which is a small room, lighted from above, are all of a superior class. They consist of the works of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Correggio, Titian, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Bartolommeo, Paul Veronese, Annibal Caracci, Parmigiano, Guercino, Dome- nichino, Guido, Rubens, Vandyke, &c. the whole exhibiting a pretty fair display of the comparative merits of the different painters. The favourite pictures seem to be those of Raphael, Correggio, Titian, Leonardo da Vinci, and Andrea del Sarto. To attempt to give an idea of the individual pictures, would indeed be a vain undertaking ; I shaU therefore confine myself to a few of the most remarkable, touching slightly on others. Raphael exceUed in portrait, as well as scrip tural and historical subjects. His Pope Julius II. is perhaps one of the finest portraits in the world. The tranqufl dignity of an aged man, thinking more of heaven than of earth, is expressed with wonderful felicity.* In style, the painting is marked * If this picture was intended as a faithful portrait of Julius, his physiognomy certainly gave no indication of his ambitious, enterprising, and overbearing disposition. May not Raphael, by a happy and delicate mixture of flattery and reproof, have softened the peculiarities of the countenance of Julius into that general expression of mildness and urbanity by which the Holy Father ought to be characterized ? 9.J PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. by simplicity and breadth, and the colouring, though rich and deep, is not dark or unintelUgible. His Faurnerina is likewise an astonishing pic ture, entirely free of manner, exhibiting a fair and faithful representation of nature, under the most agreeable and bewitching effect. Not a single mark of the pencil is discernible, all is soft and tender, shewing the most perfect knowledge of the mechanism of painting. In expression, however, the Faurnerina is somewhat pert or insolent; but it is the portrait of a baker's wife, a lady, who, I be lieve, was of questionable virtue. In colouring, the picture is in a low tone, but not dark ; the only unpleasing line is that of the dress, which cuts upon the neck. The Virgin Mary, with the Infant Jesus upon her neck, and holding out her hand to John* has a most divine expression, and ranks among the finest pictures of this master. The finishing is ex quisite, without any unnecessary hardness of line ; and the mellow landscape and light grey sky, harmo nize agreeably with the colouring of the figures. In this picture, Raphael has contrived to convey the idea of daylight, notwithstanding the depth and richness of his glazings. Near this picture hangs another Holy Family, corresponding in size, and an undoubted production of Raphael's. The maternal tenderness in the countenance of Mary is quite peculiar to this master, who seems to have studied more successfully than any other painter the amiable affections of the heart. Perhaps the pictures in the tribune. 93 drawing of the Infant Christ and John is not so perfect as might have been expected from the immortal Raphael's hand. The right leg of both appears defective ; and the foot of St John, with its toes spread out, is not in perfect taste. In his picture of John the Baptist, Raphael has completely sustained the beau ideal in his mind throughout the figure, though it seems to have been studied from nature. As a picture of light and shade, it has not many equals. The colour ing, however, is rather tawny or foxy, owing to the shadows obscuring the delicate tones and co louring of the flesh ; but this defect is amply made up by exquisite expression and anatomical accu racy. It has been said, that Michael Angelo pronounced painting in oU to be an employment fit only for wo men and children. Certainly he has not painted many pictures, — three, I believe, at most. That of the Holy Family in the Tribune is considered his best performance ; yet it has many defects, and proves that great artist to have been a little rash in speaking sUghtingly of an art, which he himself has not been able to conquer. It must be under stood, however, that I allude chiefly to dexterity of execution, aerial keeping, or a proper subordina tion of colour, together with that expression of tex ture, which best conveys the characters of truth. The colouring of his flesh cannot be said to be na tural. Its hard, liney, metallic, and meagre ap- 94 PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. pearance, is most unpleasing to the eye ; and why the flesh of the figures on the back-ground should be of the same colour and strength with that of the near er objects, I am at a loss to know. The form of the subject is pyramidal. Joseph stands behind the Vir gin Mary, but is too evidently placed there for the purpose of composition. He holds the Infant Jesus upon the right shoulder of the Virgin, who is sitting in a squat unpleasing attitude, looking up towards the child ; and a more ungainly foreshort ening of face I have seldom seen. Her arms, too, are poorly drawn, and the profusion of blue dra pery divides the figure, while there is no contriv ance to relieve it from that defect. The foot of Joseph is too small ; and, for a time, I was much at a loss to know to whom it belonged. Upon the whole, this Holy Family, by Michael Angelo, can not be said to be a pleasing picture in colouring, handling, or design. Why a number of naked academy-looking figures should appear in the back ground, seems a little puzzling ; they have no re ference whatever to the subject, nor do they, in any degree, assist its defects. The head of Joseph is the finest part of the painting, and the folds to the draperies are well cast. Much ingenious mechanism and patience is ne cessary to paint in ofl. It likewise requires parti cular pains and care, and does not generally admit of the hasty impressions of thought. Fresco paint ing, on the other hand, may be said to be always PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. 95 ready to assist the pencil, in giving that energetic mastery so suitable to the genius of Michael An gelo. In the fonner, he might have felt himself in trammels ; but the latter, presenting no obsta cles to immediate and daring execution, gave am ple liberty to his splendid mind. Yet greater praise is due to Raphael and Correggio, who have been able to control the intemperance of feel ing, and give to the world the brightest exam ples which we may ever hope to see, of that mode of painting which can best express the delicacy of Truth, in her attire of grace and beauty. Herodias by Leonardo da Vinci, with the head of St John in a charger, held by a disgusting looking ruffian, is the next picture on which I shall offer a few remarks. The countenance of Herodias is extremely beautiful, with that pecu liar character which distinguishes all da Vinci's female heads. In the present instance, however, it does not appear to me to be in unison with the nature of the subject. Herodias, in the presence of a murderer, who carries a head bathed in blood, should have hada different expression than mere placid self-possession. Surely no female could be so desti tute of feeling, as not to shew a single ray of sensibi lity on such an occasion. But, even if Herodias was so callous and cold, Leonardo da Vinci would have been forgiven, had he, for the honour of the sex, thought it impossible that she could be quite so hardened. The ruffian, with the head in a char- vol. i. t 96 pictures in the tribune. ger, has been much admired ; but, in truth, he is neither more nor less than one of these unmeaning caricatures, which Leonardo da Vinci occasion ally amused himself in designing. The mere want qf a tooth, added to deformity, can never express the ferocious and black-hearted look of a murderer. In execution, this picture is absolutely marvel lous. Nothing, can exceed the delicacy of finishing ; not the slightest touch of a brush is visible in any pai;t ; the figures seem to appear through a succes sion of transparent colours. Whether Leonardo da Vinci's mode of finishing is produced by careful labour, or whether the colours are floated in some mechanical manner, is uncertain. Wouvermans, Ca,rio Dolci,Vanderheyden,and someother painters, are supposed to have had some expeditious; method of procedure in addition to their accurate finishing. The number of pictures, indeed, attributed to them, would give countenance to such a supposition! I believe, the polishing brush is perfectly adequate to all the softness which has hitherto been, pro duced. But although softness and delicacy are ex tremely fascinating and applicable to many subjects, the ancient masters have generally preferred a vi gorous style. Even Correggio, who is supposed to have carried to perfection the finishing of pencil ling, only adopts it in occasional parts, and is by no means free from a strong empasted manner. The picture of the Repose in the Tribune, by Cprreggio, is firmly painted with a bold decided PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. 97 pencil, and in effect and colouring is almost per fect. On the other hand, what a pretty specimen of finishing is the adjoining picture of the Virgin and Christ, though certainly not carried to the extreme, as in the paintings of Vanderworf, or even to the notion generally entertained of Cor- reggio's finishing. In other respects, both of the pictures are some what faulty. In the former, the [sentiment is in differently sustained. Joseph behind the Virgin, who is sitting with the infant Jesus standing on her knee, appears to be pulling down the branch of a tree on the right of the picture ; a monk ap pears in orders grey, in a kneeling position, and apparently advancing towards our Saviour, who seems to be afraid of him. The Virgin Mary, not at tending either to the one or the other, looks stupidly proud and unamiable. Why this inconsistency of expression ? The space between the monk and the principal group appears too great, and is in some degree injurious to the general effect. The arrangement of the colours is as follows : Joseph is in a light pink drapery, with an orange plaid and a piece of white cloth round his waist. Mary is dressed in whitish yellow, with a blue robe passing round her. The light on all the figures, except the monk, is of the same brightness ; which tempted me to wish that breadth had been obtained by means more natural. In the small painting, the Virgin Mary is repre- vol. i. g 98 PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. sented on her knees in an inclined position, look ing over the infant Christ, who is lying on his back upon the ground, on a scanty piece of white dra pery laid on straw. The feminine expression of Mary is delicate, though it seems to border on insipidity ; her left hand is feebly drawn, and she puts up both in a manner somewhat chfldish. I may also add, that the infant is much too small ; yet the picture altogether is most attractive, and proclaims the grace and delicate taste of the divine Correggio. The celebrated Venus by Titian, with thekneel- ing figure in the back ground, ranks among the finest paintings in the Tribune. From its present appearance, however, I suspect that the restorers have been at work upon it. The characteristic rich ness and tone of Titian's pencil has given way to chalky whiteness ; besides, the effect is flat, with out rotundity, which surely was not a fault of Titian's. Paul Veronese always paints with firmness, and thinks decidedly for himself; though sometimes his lights on various colours are too much of one whitish tone. This, no doubt, producesbreadth; but is it nature? His finest pictures, however, are with out this peculiarity, or at least it is not so percep tible. The Virgin and Child with Angels, St John the Evangelist, and St Francis, by Andrea del Sarto, is an extremely popular picture. PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. 99 This celebrated master never offends in colouring, because he never attempts any thing violent. In character, it is richness subdued, highly pleasing to the eye, yet quite compatible with his sub ject. His introduction of a warm grey, instead of brown, as a general leading and harmonizing colour throughout the shadows of his picture, has a fine effect ; and, although the picture is hung among others, in which crimsons, the pu rest blues, and oranges prevail, with all their glazings, it keeps its ground, and even indicates that his style is better adapted to sentiment than when powerful colouring is discernible. This pic ture by Andrea del Sarto is so extremely pleasing, that it is with reluctance we look upon it with the eye of criticism ; yet the placing of Mary upon a pedestal makes the composition appear so mecha nical, that we can hardly give it approbation, not withstanding that she is well supported by saints and angels. The Holy Family, by Parmigiano, near the picture of Andrea del Sarto, is a singular example of mannerism and beauty. From its appearance, one would think that snow had fallen on the figures, and was trickling down the draperies and hair; evidently indicating that his system of ideal beau ty was erroneous, or, at least, that he carried it too far; — making all the Ughts to run parallel to each other from the top to the bottom of the figures. Parmigiano has likewise had some strange fancy 100 PICTURES IN THE TRIBUNE. about the effect of hair, which is displayed in such profusion, as to be tiresome to the eye. The head and shoulders of St John, stuck in the corner of the pic ture, has such an expression of wildness, that it makes one almost imagine that such an appearance might frighten the rest of the Holy Family, or disturb their repose. But abstracting the mannerism and strange conceit in which the picture is involved, lovely nature will appear in the infants, and dignity and grace in the Virgin. I have mentioned this picture particularly, because it distinctly shows, that, although a certain arrangement of form may display taste, if it be carried to excess, it becomes deformity. In offering my general opinion of the paint ings in the Tribune, I would presume to say, that, with the exception of the portraits, the failure in almost all the masters is the want of appropriate mental expression. LETTER XI. FLORENCE. Pictures qf the Venetian School. — Tuscan School. — Dutch School. — Flemish and German School. — Description qf a Landscape by Claude. — French School. — Observations on the Origin qf Landscape. Painting in the Grand Style. — French School continued. — Portraits. — Salle de Frate. — Some account of the various grounds which several qf the Painters have used. — Copyists Statues of the Niobe Family. — Observations on Mr Cockerell's idea regarding the Niobe Marbles Rubens' Battles, and entry of Henry IV. into Paris, in the Salle de Niobe Statue of the Hermaphrodite — Bronzes and Gems Marbles in the Cor ridor. — Observations on the measuring of Statues. 1 he pictures of the Venetian school in the gal lery of Florence are not numerous, but many of them are of high celebrity ; especially the portraits by Titian, Giorgione, Sebastian del Piombo, Paris Bordone, Morone, and Tintoretto. The works of these great men seem not only to exalt the dig nity of portrait-painting, but of the persons whom they represent. At the head of all stands the immortal Titian. The grave, quiet grandeur of his style, makes an immediate impression on the mind, and we are na turaUy led to inquire whether it be from an ideal 102 VENETIAN SCHOOL. dignity which he infuses into his pictures, or that they are just representations of individual character. Such they certainly are. The internal evidence of truth in every feature cannot be resisted, but it is the happiest choice of expression which he seizes, that expression which escapes the feeble or the careless observer. The ancient dresses, too, assist in giving grandeur, not only from their form, but their colour and variety. His broad commanding style, without flimsy trickery, and even the texture and surface of his pictures, contribute essentially to dignity. His finest portraits are those of the Due d'Urbino, his own Mistress, and the Head of A Warrior. There are some, however, even better than these in the Palazzo Pitti ; and here I may observe, that it is from his portraits in general that I have formed my opinion of the splendour of his style, and not particularly from his works in the Royal Gallery. Sebastian del Piombo's Head of a Warrior is well conceived, and ranks among the fittest pic tures. The representation of the eyes, glancing in gloom, and portentous of death and destruction, is highly poetical and appalling. Paris Bordone is in the school of Titian and Giorgione : his portraits have a noble air, and are painted with wonderful mastery. Morone is not so lofty ; yet there is a placid repose and senatorial gravity in his pictures, which is extremely pleasing. The portraits by Paul Veronese, Tintoretto, and VENETIAN SCHOOL. 103 Bassan, have a different character ; nature expres* sed with a clever pencU, clear colouring, and effect, are their characteristic qualities. The finest subjects are by Paul Veronese, Tin toretto, and Titian ; and (strange to say) there is a musical party by Bassan, without mannerism or vulgarity. Tintoretto's Marriage of Cana in GalUee may fairly claim the most distinguished praise. Numerous figures, sitting at the feast in perspective, display a surprising variety of attitude, and some female figures on the fore-ground cannot fad to captivate the admirers of graceful form. The subject, though difficult, is treated with great in genuity and apparent ease, and the colouring and effect seem faultless. The Death of St Justina, and another small picture of St Catherine kneeling, are perhaps the best paintings by Paul Veronese; indeed, they are both exceUent. In the former the back ground is painted round the figures, which gives a decision to the heads perhaps a little too harsh. In the latter I found little to censure ; but some ladies have been heard to say, that they could not dis cover what stuff" the dress was intended to repre sent, owing to the lights being so different from the colour of the drapery. The observation cer tainly had point, and was referable to the manner ism of the master. The principal painters of the Tuscan school are CigoH, Carlo Dolci, Cristofani Allori, Alessandro 104 TUSCAN SCHOOL. Allori, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Fra. Bartolommeo, Mariotto Albertinelli, Luc- chere, Ghirlandajo, Philippo Lippi, Santi di Tito, Vasari, and Pontormo. Of these masters there are many excellent specimens in the Royal Gallery. The Infant Christ sleeping on a cross, by Christofano Allori, is one of the most exquisite' cabinet pictures of the school. Perfect repose dwells on the sweetest countenance ; serene 'and quiet tones of colouring are perceptible through out the picture, and call forth the strongest feel ings of admiration. Next to this beautiful painting, the Salutation, by Martotto Albertt, seems to be the most deservedly popular. The subject con sists of two female figures representing the Virgin Mary and Saint Elizabeth shaking hands. Deli cacy and divine modesty never were more happily expressed than in the figure of the Virgin ; so gentle ! so meek ! she recals the numerous associa tions of respect and tenderness with which we re gard the sex. Iii the paintings of Fra. Barto lommeo, and in the works of several other masters, I have found the same figure of the Virgin Mary apparently copied from Albertinelli. In a conver sation, however, which I had with the professor of paintihg, I was informed that it is really the pro perty of Fra. Bartolommeo, and not of Albertinelli. As a corroboration of this, I was shewn a similar fi gure by Bartolommeo, in different points of view. The system of plagiarism is so common in Italy TUSCAN SCHOOL. 105 even among contemporaiy masters, that it needed not have excited my surprise ; this figure, however, of the Virgin being so extremely beautiful, I was curious to know its history. The Medusa's Head, by Leonardo da Vinci, is painted in his highly finished manner ; and, if it was his intention to excite disgust and horror, he certainly has succeeded. Nothing can be more re volting than the glazed eye, between life and death, and the blood flowing among snakes that almost appear aUve, the pestiferous breath of Medusa mingling with their writhings. In the second apartment of the Tuscan school may also be seen the famous sketch of the Adora tion of the Magi, by Leonardo da Vinci. To the practical artist it is interesting, as helping to disclose the nature of his process ; to all appearance it is the commencement of a picture which he had intended to finish. The general effect pf light and shade is produped with asphaltum, in many places extremely deep in colour, especially behind the figures, and upon trees. The figures are light, of the colour of the pannel, which is of a warm leather tone, and their shadows are of a rich opaque grey. There are many other beautiful pictures of the Tuscan school. The St Francis by Cigoli, and the small picture of the same subject by Allessandro AUori ; some pictures, too, by Carlo Dolci, Zuc- 106 DUTCH SCHOOL. there, Vasari, Andrea del Sarto, Ghirlandajo, &c. are worthy of minute and careful observation. The room containing pictures of the Dutch School boasts of many of the most delightful spe cimens of the various painters, and although they do not address the mind, like the works of the Italian masters, they have peculiar charms of their own, which will ever gratify the admirers of familiar natures. The execution of many of them in deli cacy of pencilling, and fine discrihiinatioh of colour knd effect, would not disgrace the higher branches of art. The pictures of Metzu, Mieris, Gerard Dow, Netscher, Terburg, Rembrandt, Van Balen, Schalken. Brower, Adrian Vanderveldt, De Lair, Slingland, Ruysdael. and many others, are extremely fine; and I have found, that they are more gener ally popular than the works of the other schools. Like pastoral poetry, they are understood and felt by all, while the works of Michael Angelo, Sebas tian del Piomboj Cigoli; and other great masters, like the poemS of Homer, Milton, and Dante, are enjoyed by only the inspired or initiated few. For a similar reason, Raphael, Correggio, Guido, Par migiano, and other painters of the Italian school, whose works are characterized by beauty, have a fairer chance for general admiration than those who have studied to embody conceptions of severe and abstract grandeur. Among the paintings of Flemish and German Schools, there are several excellent pictures, but FLEMISH AND GERMAN SCHOOL. 107 none that rank extremely high. The Tenniers, Albert Durer, Elzheimers, Denner and Brills, are the best. The Graces was a subject above Rubens' conception of beauty, but it is pleasing to see, that this great master has condescended to copy a Bacchanalian subject from Titian, with all the sport and character of the original. The finest pictures by Rubens are in the same room with the statues of Niobe, and I shall not fail to give you some account of them. In the mean time, let me attempt to describe a splendid picture by Claude Loraine, which is unaccountably hung among the paintings of the Flemish school. This exquisite and perfect picture represents the Sun Rising among buildings, shipping, and figures ; and, in point of composition, is equal to any of the finest of Claude's paintings to be seen in England. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive any work of art, in which more consummate skUl, or a more intimate knowledge of nature, can be dis played. The sun absolutely appears to shine and sparkle upon the various objects, which are so judiciously arranged, as to give effect and sentiment combined. No positive outline appears among the buildings ; the objects are so sweetly blended into each other, that nothing individually intrudes itself through the illuminated misty air, though, when curiously examined, innumerable interesting details develope themselves in the most captivating manner. On the fore-ground, the connecting 108 FRENCH SCHOOL. figures, colours, shadows, and touches of brilliancy on silver vases and musical instruments, unite with the whole subject, exciting altogether the happy feelings connected with a lovely morning. It is in such effects that the inimitable Claude, like the glorious sun which he represents, appears to shine. He does not aim at mere effect, nor combinations of objects for trifling purposes, but to excite senti ment and feeling, to remind us of past joys, and impart new delight. In the same room with this beautiful picture there is another picture of Claude's, representing a RuralScenewith Dancing Figures, but, though yery fine, it cannot be compared with the former. The repeated glazings have given it a dark and sombre cast, not in unison with the merry villagers, or the light and air which should be expressed in such a scene. Yet, when the picture is brought into a powerful light, it appears transparent, ex hibiting the richest colouring in perfect harmony. On the subject of the composition of Claude, I shall offer a few remarks, when I have seen his pictures in the Doria Palace in Rome. In the apartment of the French school there are few names pf great note. The Dutch, Ve netians, Italians, and the modern English, have looked at nature for themselves, and discovered her various characters. But the French, with the ex ception of a distinguished few, have comparatively done but little. We look in vain for well selected FRENCH SCHOOL. 109 nature on those lofty principles of combination, which result from purity of thought. Vain-glorious frippery and mannerism, and trifling, mark their works. There is a difference surely between stu dying nature and looking at her works with levity and self-conceit. Their glancing over surfaces, their musings on ancient statues, and measure ments of their proportions, have not shewn them where the great sculptors of old have found perfec tion ; their works can barely please the eye, and seldom reach the mind. As nature allows no sin ning against her with impunity, the French school, if so it may be called, stands comparatively degrad ed in the world's discerning eye. But from their numerous list of painters names may be taken, which fame and nature must acknowledge, and these are Claude Loraine, Nicolo, and Gasper Poussin, Bourdon, Le Brun, Le Sieur, Watteau, Borgog- none, and some others ; men who, though not in the very highest rank of art, are entitled to gra titude and admiration. Landscape-painting has been ennobled by the pencils of the Poussins ; and in this department, as far as it relates to original character, and a fine general view of nature, combined with a certain lofty expression, they stand unrivalled. The gal lery of Florence, however, contains no good speci mens of their works in this department. Landscape-painting, in the grand style, appears to me to have been wholly indebted for its elevated 110 FRENCH SCHOOL. character to the scriptural and historical painters, and may have been suggested to them by their in troducing into many of their pictures back-grounds of landscape, which would not admit of much de tail, and regard only general and simple forms. Improving upon the hint thus suggested to them, it may be said, by accident, they have produced a higher style and a broader view of nature. But it is worthy of remark, that the grand style is, gene rally speaking, exclusively in their hands; — some,, who devote themselves to landscape-painting solely, are more attached to beauty or the picturesque. But to return to the room of the French school in the Royal Gallery. The portraits of Phillipe Champagne, and Pierre Meynard, are carefully finished, yet free and natural, though not in an elevated style. A Holy Family, by Nicholas Loir, is chaste, but a little vapid. Parrocel's and Courtois's battles are animated and clever in pen cilling. Gagnerous of Dijon's pictures, in the style of Woverman's, are spirited, but far behind the master whom he seems to imitate. Le Naire has taste; his Adoration of the Shepherds is by no means despicable, especially in colouring. Bouher, Vanloo, and Javenet, are completely French. Vou- et is full of vapouring and flurry. Vermet's landscapes are masterly and firm, but somewhat flimsy; he has neither texture nor surface, nor does he often express the pure tones of nature. Clarisseau's ruins display mannerism, and are sej- 4 portraits of painters. Ill dom composed with taste ; he gives too much when we want but little. As there are none of Le Bran's, Sebastian Bourdon's, or Fresnoy's works of any consequence in the gallery, I forbear to speak of them. A small upright Gaspar Pous sin is well composed, but too dark. Niccolo Pous- sin's Venus and Adonis is beautifully drawn and well designed ; his Theseus, too, is a pleasing pic ture, but neither, comparing him with himself, has claims to extraordinary admiration. The best landscape is by Boguet, a modern painter, but it wants a middle ground ; the transition from great objects to small ones is unpleasing to the eye ; iii other respects, however, the picture is well com- posed, the pencilling remarkably free and firm, and the aerial perspective well sustained. I could wish, however, that his pencilling or touches were less perceptible and proportioned to the various dis tances. The apartment of Portraits of Painters con tains about 400 in number, executed generally by themselves. Rembrandt's, Rubens', and Sir Joshua Reynolds' pictures have the most luminous and striking effect, and appear like diamonds among the rest ; many of the others are admirable works of art, and as cabinet pictures, might perhaps be preferred for their exquisite finishing ; — those es pecially by Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, Parmigiano, Tintoretto, Gerhard Douw, Carlo Dolci, Vandyke, &c. VOL. 1. t 112 PORTRAITS of painters. The portrait of Leonardo da Vinci is a fine old head, with a mild expression and flowing beard, painted in his usual smooth transparent manner. The glazings are very thick, and in many parts of the picture are cracked and honey-combed in a strange, and singular manner, yet not so much as to injure the drawing or beauty of the picture. In Rembrandt's portraits we can trace his magic pencil in every part, his fine eye for colour never fails to place the most delightful tones in harmony with each other. Masaccio da Giovanni's portrait is in fresco, an admirable sketch, but fresco does not seem well adapted for portrait-painting. Vanderwerf carries his finishing to an excess, which is unsuitable to portrait-painting ; his picture wants spirit, and looks like a coloured mezzotinto engraving : — even Carlo Dolci loses character in his finishing. Schalken's portrait, too, (a candle light effect,) is in the same predicament. Gerhard Douw, on the other hand, though he finishes very highly, contrives to give more spirit and animation : Denner is tiresome ; when looking at his works, we can think of nothing but weary toil and months of painful drudgery. A collection of portraits is a spotty and fatiguing exhibition. Those, however, who are fond of the study of physiognomy, may find much to amuse them. As noble liberal-looking men of salle de frate. 113 talent, I would class Reynolds with Rubens, Le onardo da Vinci, N. Poussin, Titian, &c. as hard featured men of genius, Michael Angelo with Rembrandt, Tintoretto, Andrea del Sarto ; Raphael with Vandyke, as gentle and amiable. The Ca- raccis have nothing peculiar in their countenances, and surely would not be taken for men of genius ; indeed, in glancing over the whole collection, few heads seem to bear that character, and, least of all, the celebrated Jacob More, who might be classed with the Princess of Saxony, (a, paintress,) with all due deference to Dr Spurzheim's doctrines, as a siUy looking person. There is nothing very remarkable in the Salle de Frate, except Cigoli's Stoning of St Stephen, which is by much the best picture, and really a noble work in composition, colouring, and effect. There is also a picture by A. Caracci, and one by M. Angelo Caracaggio ; a large design, too, of the Virgin Mary in Heaven, by Fra. Bartolommeo, in which it appears that this great artist began his picture on the most careful outline, shaded with a brown or bistre colour. On examining the various grounds on which these celebrated men have painted, I am enabled to give the following list. Raphael and Fra. Bartolommeo often used a tanned leather colour ; Sebastian del Piombo, ge nerally a dark leaden colour or black ; Guido vol. i. h 114 COPYISTS. and the Teniers, occasionally white; Titian, Claude, and the Poussins, a lakey brown ; Peter de Lair and Salvator Rosa, sometimes black ; Angelica Fiesole, a gold ground. The hue or tone of the grounds have generally had an influence on the colouring of the pictures. Those that have been painted on a black ground have been sombre and dark; white grounds, have produced silvery, clear, and light pictures ; such as have jjsed mahogany coloured grounds, and allow ed them to appear through their painting, have produced the most pleasing shades of grey, (I speak of landscape,) and these have often given a leading tone and guide in finishing. Yellow grounds have produced warm and tawny pictures, red grounds, pearly and clear ones, especially if the colouring be thin. The gallery is filled with copyists, male and fe male, young and old, who are permitted to have any picture taken down. From what I have seen of this system of copying, I can have no hesitation in saying that it is a bad one. Those stupid peor pie cannot be called artists ; they are incapable of producing any thing of their own, and go to the gallery not for improvement, ;but to make a piti. ful livelihood by their wretched imitations ; their easjls, tables, and desks, with their paltry minia tures and drawings after Raphael, Carlo Dolci, Guido, &c. are constantly in the gallery where they FAMILY OF NIOBE. 115 carry ou their trade. To me it appeared disgrace ful, not only that the arts should thus he prosti tuted, but that such beautiful pictures should be de graded tp such a pijrpose. Besides, the rage for copies may eventually lead the eye from nature, and all her charms, ar*d prevent the real genius of the country from rising into notice, while money is thys squandered on objects so undeserving. Such a gallery as this of Florence is calculated to be of the first advantage to the arts, when studi ed properly for improvement ; hut, as I have said, it maj have the reverse effect, if prostituted to an ignobfe purpose, Beside the apartments pf the various schools qf art which I have mentioned, there is a room filled with the statues of Niobe and her family ; a room with the famous Hermaphrodite, and many other exquisite statues, busts, and other marbles ; rqpms, too, of ancient and modern bronzes, and precious gems and coins, and ancient inscrip tions. • The statjies of the Family of Niobe are well arranged, and have a grand and most imposing effect in number. Including the II Pedagogo, and a figure like Narcissus, they amount tq fifteen, and are supposed to be the work of Scopas or Praxiteles. The general appearance of some of the statues is theatrical, and not without con siderable faults ; yet the beau ideal in them all will 116 FAMILY of niobe. amply compensate their defects, and excite univer sal admiration. Niobe, perhaps; appears too large or bulky ; and in height, she cannot be less than eight and a half or nine heads ; her right leg looks a little out of proportion, and the turning in of some folds above the inside of the right knee, which interrupts the flow of the drapery, is unpleasing to the eye : the child which she protects, is without a fault in form and character. The first daughter on the left of Niobe has quite the general air and appearance of the mother, and is in every respect a most beautiful and interesting figure : but whUe the shafts of Apollo and Diana are supposed to be dealing death and destruction around, a stronger expression of terror might have been expeeted : it is, however, a sweet and engaging countenance, exciting indigna tion against the gods, who, more vindictive than hu man beings, could destroy a form so beautiful for the harmless and natural vanity of a mother. The statue of her brother, which stands next in succes sion, is much inferior, and does not call forth the same tender sympathy : his right thigh is much too short, and the drapery which hangs over the leg, does not exhibit a good form beneath. Indeed^ both thigh, and leg, arid drapery, are defective, and the statue altogether has no pretensions above the middling rank of art. The second or follow ing son is in an unnatural and theatrical attitude : FAMILY OF NIOBE. 117 the point of the toe of the left foot, and the tip of the finger of the right hand, are in a straight line with the left hand ; he grasps his drapery, which is twisted round his arm, and tightened on his shoul der; the right knee seems fixed, not placed, upon a piece of rock or stem of a tree ; the head looks upwards, but with little or no expression. His sister on the opposite side, and next the mother, stands in a petitioning attitude, with her left foot raised upon a stone : the sway of the person is na tural, easy, and graceful, and the drapery remark ably well cast. Upon the whole, this statue is finely conceived, though hardly referable in character to any disastrous circumstance. The third daugh ter, who is the second from Niobe on the left side, is in a crouching attitude, looking upwards, with her right arm extended, but a little bent, her left arm appears above her knee, but does not touch it; she rests chiefly on her left foot, her knee being considerably bent ; the right leg appearing through the drapery is somewhat stiff, and indifferently formed : from some points of view, however, no defect arrests the eye, and it may be pronounced to be an admirable statue. Two of the sons (the third and fourth) are in the same attitude : in my description, therefore, I shall chuse the fourth. He kneels on his left knee, his body being somewhat turned back; his right arm rests upon his right knee, the left on drapery, 118 FAMILY OF NIOBE. which is placed upon a stone; the right limb project ed appears in a straight line, and the foot is disagree* ably turned up, so that the sole is perceptible. The left knee appears as if it were sunk consider-* ably into the stone on which it rests, and in other respects is far from being pleasing or correct. The whole figure indeed seems constrained, and excites in the spectator a feeling of uneasiness, when he at tempts to conceive himself in such a posture j yet there is certainly much to admire in both the sta tues. In the fifth son (in order round the room) there is a similar stiffness, but the head, and the anatomy of the breast, are incomparably fine ; h> deed, the whole figure has a superior air, and an elevated expression of ideal beauty. The statue of the fourth daughter is extremely pleasing, but without any pretensions to refined or classical character ; the right thigh is very short. The right ami of the sixth son is raised somewhat above his head, beyond which it projects about six inches. The hand is muffled up in drapery, which comes sweeping down in a circular form opposite to the left knee ; a button fastens the drapery near the left groin, from which it depends in beautiful folds in a straight line down to the foot. From the incli nation of the body and the projection of the right arm, the figure with its drapery resembles the shape of a half moon. The right leg may be a little too stiff, and the right arm too short; but the FAMILY OF NIOBE. 1 ly statue altogether has more original character and more of that kind of beau ideal which should belong to the son of Niobe, than any other of the male figures. The head and breast are inimitably and carefuUy studied. Next to this beautiful statue stands the one called II Pedagogo, but what pretension he has to be placed among the Niobes, with his half boots laced in front, I am at a loss to know. He has nothing of their character, and appears of an or der so much less noble, that they completely dis own him. The fifth daughter is perhaps the most grace ful of aU the sisters. Her drapery comes sweeping round, and winds with the form of the limbs in the most agreeable manner ; she appears about to take a step, and the Ughtness and elegante of the figure can hardly be surpassed. I know not what to say of the figure resembling Narcissus, unless that it appears to have no connection whatever with the rest. I could wish the statue in the Corri dor, which is supposed to be one of the Niobes, were put in its place; it would certainly be more like the set, and fully as good a statue as either the third or fourth son. Of aU the statues in the SaUe de Niobe, the Dead Son appears the best. He is represented lying on his back, his legs just crossing each other, the left hand re- clining on his breast, and his right arm so much 120 FAMILY OF NIOBE. raised as from some points of view to hide his face. As a just representation of nature and finishing, this statue has no rival. The learned and celebrat ed Mr John Bell has often visited this inimitable work, and pronounced it to be a most extraordi nary display of anatomical accuracy. It has been conjectured, I understand, by the ingenious Mr Cockerel], that this collection of mar bles has been originally intended for the tympanum of a temple. I hope, however, that II Pedagogo is not admitted in Mr Cockerell's arrangement. The representation, too, of the dead figure, with the marks of stabs or cuts upon his right and left breast, appears to have no connection with the fa mily of Niobe. He is more like an unsuccessful gladiator ; and compared with the gashes in his breast, the wounds made by the shafts of Apollo would have been comparatively small. This statue is likewise very highly finished in every part, even to the finest gloss, which seemed unnecessary if it had been intended to form one of this ill-fated family, as Mr Cockerell supposes that they were repre sented in the tympanum. None of the other figures are executed with nearly the same care, though, according to this hypothesis, they must have been more distinctly seen. It is true, that the Greeks were accustomed to give as high finishing even to the unseen parts of the statues, as to those which were most exposed to view. In this parti- RUBENS' BATTLE OF YPRES. 12 1 cular instance, however, when the other statues are less carefully finished, there seems to be no conceivable reason for the very high polish of the figure in question. One of the sons, indeed, is not sculpturedbehind ; yet this is the only figure, which appears to have been a fixture, from the mark of an iron cramp, which is visible in the marble. But supposing them placed within a pediment, they would appear detached and single figures without any grouping, and would look various ways ; one, indeed, with his back towards the spectator. Would this be consistent with Grecian taste? Nor can I think that the figures would suit the acute angle of the tympanum. The heads would rise too high ; or, if placed under it, Niobe would appear too small, leaving a vacant space above the figure. The third or crouching daugh ter, I understand, has been left out of this suppos ed arrangement. Now, if she is one of the Niobes, to whom she certainly appears as nearly allied as the Pedagogo, or the statue of the Dead Son, why was she denied a place among the other figures ? Besides the statues of Niobe and her family, there are in the same room (which is nearly thirty feet in length) several paintings by Rubens, Van dyke, Subtermane, &c. The Battle of Ypres, (a very large picture,) behind the figure of Niobe, is a performance of wonderful spirit, and fully conveys to the mind the awful confusion of such a scene. 122 TRIUMPHAL ENTRY OF HENRY IV. The very horses, (admirably painted,) with their struggling exertions and eyes of fire, seem to revel in the horrible affray. The power of Rubens' pencil is irresistible ; his fearless mind, like the hero of the battle, surmounts difficulties from which any other painter would have shrunk in dis may. He aims not merely at groupes of horses and warriors skilfully combined, as may be seen in the battles of Borgonone, SalvatOr Rosa, and" others; but at one mighty field of human exertions, where all are determined to conquer or to fall ! He even rouses the passions of the spectator, forces him to dash into the hurricane of battle, and for a time scarcely allows him to reflect, that he is contemplating a work of art. This extraordi nary picture is. painted in a very free manner, abounding in peintetnentos or corrections, and exhibiting such a display of varied feeling, as no other picture ever perhaps expressed. Henry the Fourth's triumphal entrance into Paris, after the battle of Ypres, a companion to this picture, likewise abounds in all the excel lence of the master : the colouring, spirit, and cha racter, all obey the inspiration of his mind ; even the skies seem to rejoice in Henry's glory. He who would sit down to point out the faults in these extraordinary pictures, would surely mis spend his time. They are all perceptible, and left so by the master, who well knew that the para- room of the hermaphrodite. 1^3 mount Jeeling and sentiment which they exhibit, would leave the liberal and enlightened mind no inclination to observe such trifling defects. I question whether, if such subjects were highly finished and every fault removed, they would strike so much as this powerful and energetic pencilling, with all its train of alterations and dauntless free dom. The portrait of Helen Foreman, by the same master, is almost a speaking picture ; — fresh as the morning', every tone as pure as the light from Heaven! What an example of his power of finishing, whenjZnishing is necessary! and what a picture for modern portrait-painters to study ! Vandyke's ex quisite picture hangs near that of Rubens', and is in every respect as fine ; the pencilling is delicate, yet free as air ; and the character and natural expres sion, like fine poetiy, finds an assent in every breast. In the room of the Hermaphrodite is the cele brated statue of that name. The figure is repre sented lying in a beautiful flowing or eel-like form, upon a lion's skin. The head, which is turned to wards the spectator, with the most innocent and captivating expression, is quite divine. Indeed, every part is perfect. It appears, perhaps, to most advantage when viewed from behind ; and the whole statue suggests the idea, that the sculptor's model has been a lovely female. Next in perfection to this exquisite piece of sculp- 124 MODERN and ancient BRONZES. ture is the colossal Head of Alexander ; the countenance, apparently exhibiting great mental suffering ; and the head of Jove, expressive of se rene and quiet majesty. Then follows Antinous in pensive sadness. This head, which is also colos sal, was discovered at Rome so late as lb7l. The Infant Hercules Strangling Serpents is much admired ; but the belly appears tumid and flaccid, indicative of weakness, an appearance very inconsistent with the nature of the subject. Junius Brutus, and two busts of Cicero, at dif ferent periods of his life, are full of character, as, indeed, are many others, which it would be tedious even to name. The room of Modern Bronzes contains innume rable works of beauty. The Mercury, by John of Bologna, is not inferior to any thing of the an tique. His foot rests upon a zephyr, and the figure is so light as to be quite aerial. There is a head too of one of the Medici Family, finely ex ecuted, and also a helmet by Benvenuto Cellini, on which are impressed figures of Charity and lame, and several cameos in silver, of faultless workman ship. Ghiberti's Sacrifice is likewise beautiful. There are some frames too of exquisite cameos. Among the Ancient Bronzes, the most remark able are a Horse's Head ; the figure of a young man five feet in height, called the Idol, and not unlike Antinous ; a Minerva, very ancient, but GEMS AND INSCRIPTIONS. — BUSTS. 125 imperfect in the beau ideal ; a Philosopher, in a noble simple attitude, holding a scroll in his hand. All these ancient bronze statues have hollow eyes without eye-balls. Among the smaller bronzes, Cupid is represented dressed with breeches^ a belt about his loins, and wings upon his feet : there are also innumerable Venuses, for love and beauty were the predominant divinities in ancient days. The Room of Gems boasts of exquisite and high ly finished works in precious stones. Those by Benvenuto Cellini are of the finest workmanship. I shaU not attempt to describe these inestimable curiosities, not daring to trust my eyes among so many diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls, topazes, lapides lazuli, &c. The apartment was always full of ladies, who perhaps regretted that one part of the Spartan discipline might not be practised by the fair in Florence. In the Room of Inscriptions are many Egyp tian monuments, urns, ornaments, sarcophagi, &c. The Bust of Bacchus is a specimen of the dis agreeable effect of the mixture of marble and ala baster of different colours. From this mixture pro bably originated the Pietra dura, or the art of imi tating various objects by inlaying with different coloured stones, the effect of which is not much more pleasing than that of the motley busts. The only workmanship of the kind which is at all tolerable is Mosaic, and it is astonishing to what 126 MARBLES IN THE CORRIDOR. perfection it may be brought. I refer chiefly to large pictures in various towns in Italy, and not to the small specimens which are brought to England. In the room of inscriptions will be found the Mask, an early performance by Michael Angelo. It is by no means like the work of a young man, hut is full of spirit and character that indicates mastery. The Bust of Brutus in the same room, and hy the same hand, is unfinished, yet full of noble and manly expression. Among the principal statues in the Corridors, the Roman Matron, supposed to be the Empress Agrippina, will not fail to draw the attention of the man of taste. She is represented sitting in a simple graceful attitude. The drapery in small folds, beautifully yields to the turning of the body ; altogether, {here is something extremely lady-like and interesting in this statue ; the hands and feet are delicacy itself ! The head, however, is a resto ration, with an expression of countenance by far too young for the figure. The Roman Matron is quite a model for ease, and it were well if the awkward females of this age had the opportunity of learning from it to sit properly upon their chairs. The Corridors abound in AthJeta. or Wrestlers, but they are all too like academy figures placed in attitudes. They have nothing of the beau ideal, and perhaps require none. In the statues of Pan and Olento, the latter listens to Pan, who is in- MARBLES IN THE CORRIDOR. 127 structing him to play upon his reed; the groupe is pleasing, but the arms o^ both, placed above each other, are not in taste. The statues of some of the muses are good, but not remarkable for beauty. That of Calliope is the best. The Venus Cquch- ant is exquisite in beauty and form ; but it is to be regretted that her head, like the locks of some of our British Venuses, is not her own, the original beinglost. The statueof Mercury is a noble figure, but he should throw off his wings, and be reduced to a gladiator; he is much too heavy for the skies. The Bacchus by Michael Angelo is one of the finest statues in the gallery. A youthful figure stands with a fine easy sway pf body, having a cup in one baud, and grapes ip the other ; a little satyr at bis foot holding grapps up to his mouth. The anatomy apd character are excellent, and do honour to the noble genius of the master. The mouth is a little open, and it is not difficult to perceive that the god has got quite enough of the juice of the grape, but this is delicately and prettily expressed. Op the opposite side is the famous Bacchus called the Bacco del Sansovino. It is also a youthful figure. He holds up a cup, and looks towards it with a smiling countenance ; perhaps this expres sion is better than Michael Angelo's ; it shews the enUvening and inspiring quality of wine, while the former seems only to exhibit its intoxicating effect, The copy of the Lapcoon by Bacchus 128 MARBLES IN THE CORRIDOR. BandineUi is said to be little inferior to the origi nal; the latter I have not seen, but if it is finer than Bandinelli's, it mustcertainly be divine. Donatelli's Statue of St John should not be among these admirable marbles ; for, however true to nature, a miserable starved-looking creature is extremely disagreeable. In nature, misery excites compas sion, but I question whether we should wish it to be much before our eyes in art. There c an be no doubt, if this statue had the power of loco-motion, and could see the disgust which it excites, it would march off without delay. From the number of empresses and other female busts among the various marbles, many of them admirable specimens of sculpture, we can form an accurate idea in what manner the ladies in ancient times wore their hair, and it is curious to perceive the endless variety of curls, plaitings, frizzlings, and braidings. But I should suspect, from the profusion of hair and high tupees, which many of them exhibit, that wigs and false hair are of great antiquity. In the vestibule there are many ad mirable marbles and bronzes, and likewise the busts of the Medici Family, from Lorenzo down wards, all of them with singular, and by no means pleasing physiognomy. The Boar is an admirable piece of art ; a Dog, too, is extremely well executed, but the Horse ap pears heavy and unnatural. The Hercules in MEASURING OF STATUES. 129 bronze, and the grand and warlike figure on the op posite side, together with some basso relievos, may comprehend the finest of the works in the Vestibule. In walking through the gallery, I have found that the general mode of criticising the statues adopted by the visitors, was to measure them according to the height of the ApoUo or the Venus de Medicis, than which method nothing can be more erro neous. Apollo may be a certain number of heads in height, and so may the Venus ; but surely it does not follow, that a statue of Minerva or of Juno should have the same proportions as a Ve nus, nor would it be expected that a Bacchus or a Hercules should count heads with Apollo. They are all different in character, and must be so in form and dimensions. In short, the propor tions of statues must not only be characteristic of what they are intended to represent, but must likewise be made to please the eye, and an swer the conception of the sculptor : the propor tions of a Bacchus by Michael Angelo might not suit those of a Bacchus by BandineUi, although the figures might be the same in size, and equal in beauty. So much depends on feeling. Is not Nature a great authority, who produces endless variety of proportions and dimensions in the human form, which might be selected by the painter ac cording to his peculiar taste, and rendered in the highest degree pleasing ? VOL. I. I LETTER XII. FLORENCE. The Cathedral— Santa Croce. — Tomb qf M. Angelo— San- tissima Annunziata. — Votive Offerings. — Organs. — Sopra nos. — Pulpits Chapel de' Depositi. — M. Angelo's Sta tues. — Ghibertis Gates. — Prison. — Madhouse, — Santa Maria Nuovella. — Society called the Buonuomini di San Martino. —-And Society qf Misericordia, JTew exhibitions are more fatiguing than a gallery of pictures and statues. The mind, constantly upon the alert, soon becomes exhausted, What, then, must a long account of them be ? My con science tells me that I have put your patience in this way to a severe trial, and that I must now relieve you with a little variety. Yet as there are few situations in Florence, where we do not meet with either statues or paintings, I cannot refrain from adverting to those which may come in our way, though I promise you it shall be but slightly. You cannot boast of that want of curiosity, which distinguished a certain noble Lord, who lately took a bet, and gained it, that he would not see the Vatican a second time ; or another English man, who, for the sake of a little notoriety, spent many weeks in Rome, without seeing either St Peter's or the Coliseum, The Duomo, or Cathedral of Florence, a mix- CATHEDRAL OF FLORENCE. 131 ture of Gothic and ancient Roman architecture, is a noble edifice. In its dimensions, it is not much inferior to Saint Paul's, but without its simple dignity ; some projection seems to be wanting at the bottom of the dome, which, springing from its support, even without a cornice, looks bare and meagre. The alternate layers of black and white marble of which the edifice is composed give little repose to the wandering eye. The in laying and pannelling are finished with the utmost neatness, and the building, in general, embraces a great variety of the richest ornament ; though it must be said, with singular incongruity. The twisted columns, supported on the backs of various animals, and even carried round the Gothic arches, are entirely at variance with taste and propriety. On the Tower, which is separate from the Ca thedral, are sculptured, in basso relievo, represen tations of the progress of man, from his creation, in the natural order of his wants and inventions, towards refinement; such as spinning, weaving, building, pottery, brewing, smith work, astronomy, religion, the arts, &c. These, though not execut ed in the purest taste, are sufficiently character istic for their situation. Besides these basso re lieves, the niches in the higher part of the tower are filled with statues of the Apostles, the whole presenting a fine display of richness and effect. On entering the Cathedral, it appears extremely gloo- 132 SANTA CROCE. my, the various objects being barely visible by the feeble light, which faintly gleams through the painted glass. This effect seems to be suitable to devotion, and calculated to keep in subordination the vain tendencies of the soul. The eye soon becomes accustomed to the som bre shade, and traces out the beauties of Ban- dinelli's admirable basso relievos. On the screen of the high altar, constructed by Michael Angelo, the affecting group of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, sculptured by that great master, seen in " the dim religious light," addresses our humbled tone of mind, and calls forth in numerable reveries on what we are, and what we may be. At one time, on visiting this magnificent Temple, we witnessed a scene of grandeur, which was extremely impressive. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and the torrents poured upon the streaming glass. The sudden and vivid lights, like the rays of hope, that dart occasionally upon the heart through the gloom of sorrow, glanced upon the dripping creatures that were rushing in at every quarter, as if to implore the protection of Heaven, in this moment of terror. Santa Croce contains the ashes of Michael An gelo, Alfieri, Galileo, Machiaveli, and other illus trious dead. At all times we respect the memory of such great men, but, on visiting their tombs, we could almost bend the knee. Alfieri's monument TOMB OF MICHAEL ANGELO. 133 is by Canova, but, with all its beauty, is not success ful. The female figure leaning over the sarcophagus, with the portrait of Alfieri, is by much too bulky ; the head, however, is extremely fine, and would do honour to ancient sculpture. The sarcophagus, on which is placed the bust of Michael Angelo, is raised above the eye ; and at each end, and opposite the middle, is seen a female figure, representing Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture. Below the centre figure is the following inscription : MICHAELI ANGELO BONAROTIO E VETVSTA SIMONIORVM FAMILIA SCVLPTORI PICTORI ET ARCHITECTO FAMA OMNIBVS NOTISSIMO LEONARDVS PATRVO AMANTISS. ET DE SE OPTIME MERITO TRANSLATIS ROMA EJVS OSSIBVS ATQVE IN HOC TEMPLO MAIOR. SVOR.SEPVLCROCONDITIS COHORT ANTE SERINISS COSMO MED MAGNO HETRVRIAE DVCE P. C ANN. SAL CIOID. LXX. VIXIT ANN. LXXXVIII. M. XI. D. XV. On each side of the bust are three wreaths of olive, bay, and oak, together with his arms. The principal part of the monument, including these various objects, forms a square, above which is a small fresco picture of a Dead Christ and the Vir gin, painted by Michael Angelo, exquisite both in colouring and design. These monuments form the principal attraction in the church of Santa Croce. " In Santa Croce's holy precincts he Ashes which make it holier, dust which is 134 SANTISSIMA ANNUNZIATA. Even in itself an immortality, Though there were nothing save the past, and this, The particle of those sublimities Which have relaps'd to chaos." The church of the Santissima Annunziata boasts of its peculiar sanctity, * beauty, and riches. In the small chapel, called the CapeUa del Socorso, within the church, the riches are prodigious. One splendid golden lamp, and thirty silver ones of great magni tude, hang round this little place of worship. The altar is composed of silver and precious stones ; and there are besides twenty-five great silver candle sticks. From the appearance of the whole it may be said to be imbossed in riches, dazzling the eye with splendour. Can the worshippers of the Virgin suppose that she is to be captivated by the glare of worldly magnificence, or that her intercession may be gained by costly offerings ? In this beautiful church, which was a favourite of Michael Angelo's, there is an admirable statue of a Dead Christ by BandineUi; he seems to have just touched the line which distinguishes perfect * I remarked in this church, notwithstanding its sanctity, a circumstance which appeared to me to be peculiarly indecent. While service was performing at one end, some people were sweeping it at the other, enveloping in a cloud of dust two or three poor creatures who were praying ; one of them, indeed, while he was counting his beads, was requested to get out of the way of the broom ! SANTISSIMA ANNUNZIATA. 135 nature from ideal beauty : the expression of the whole is dignified, even to the feet. On the other hand, the Christ in bronze by John of Bologna, in the same church, is too much marked in the detail. Strong anatomical expression does not seem to be suitable to the character of our Saviour, at least it should not be carried so far as to intrude upon the sentiment. The cloisters are filled with frescoes by Pucitti and others ; but there is one by Andrea del Sarto, Madonna del Sacco, in the form of half a circle, which is perfectly beautiful, and remarkable for deUcacy of colouring. It is the same from which Morghen has made an exquisite engraving. The corridor, in front of the church, has likewise several admirable fresco paintings by the same master, who surprises us by the simple means which he has employed, never in any instance forsaking unaffected nature : on aU his works is impressed a quiet ele vated character, which is extremely pleasing. Besides the innumerable fresco paintings in Flo rence, by painters whose names are unknown in England, the stucco walls of several of the houses are hatched with figures " al sgraffito," * of re markable spirit and fine conception. The Voti, or offerings presented to the churches * By this term is meant the hatching of figures with brown colours, on plastered walls, in imitation of drawings hatched with a brush. 136 VOTIVE OFFERINGS. by bigotted individuals, are miserable daubings, and generally, I should suppose, painted by the persons who imagined themselves relieved by the interposition Of the saint or saints, from their bodily diseases, accidents, or sufferings. To ascribe such benefits to inferior agents, and not directly to the Divine power, may appear modest, yet it does not suit our notions of the universal superinten dence of God, and his parental regard for all his creatures, since not a sparrow falls to the ground without an act of his will. In the time of Leopold, the cloister before the church La Santissima Annunziata was principally ap propriated to the reception of these votive offerings, and they must have been considerable in number, and perhaps injurious to the mind, since he found it necessary to issue an order for their removal. They are, however, creeping in again ; all which are now seen are of modern date, from 1795 to 1815, and generally represent accidents, such as falling down stairs, out of a boat, kicks from horses, a bone in the throat, carriages driving over women and children, inflammation in the throat, &c. Some of the best of them have been honoured with a place within the church, which, by the way, may be a delicate hint for the pious votaries to send better pictures. The Monastery of the- Church of St Mark's was suppressed by the French. In the refectory they ORGANS. — SOPRANOS. 1S7 shew a painting in which St Dominicano appears at dinner with a number of monks : when they sat down they had nothing to eat, but on praying fervently, St Dominicano was served by angels, who came from heaven with laps full of new-baked roUs. It is but a poor picture ; there are, however, the remains of better upon the injured walls. Santo Spirito isthe onlychurch in which we heard a sermon preached, quite in the Presbyterian style, without notes. The congregation, however, consist ed almost exclusively of women, children, and very old men. The pictures in Santo Spirito, by Cigoli and Fra. Bartolommeo, are not of the first order, but highly deserving of some examination. Cigoli never painted in vain. Many of the churches in Florence have ad mirable organs ; that of the church of St Gaetano is the best, and next to it is that in the Badia. The Abbe Cotte performs on the latter, and the former is played by a person of inferior talent ; thus the power and expression of the finest instru ment is lost by this unwise arrangement. Soprano voices are not numerous. Signor Martini is at the head of all, and his notes and skill are truly divine. It has been calculated, however, that not above one in twelve of these artificial voices are found to succeed ; taste and judgment seldom accompany them% The government have commanded, that females should henceforth take 138 PULPITS. — CHAPEL DE DEP0SITI. the alto parts, after the present set of male sopranos has expired. For this arrangement, it is said, they are indebted to Napoleon. The pulpits in many of the Italian churches are elegant, in particular those of the church of San Lorenzo. They are simple oblong squares of bronze without canopies, and enriched with scrip tural subjects in basso relievo, supported on marble columns, and large enough to admit two clergymen. The Chapel de Depositi, the work of Michael Angelo, surprised me greatly : indeed, I could hardly imagine that a mind which comprehended every thing that was great, should have produced a work so utterly unworthy of him. Broken and divided into trifling parts, it appears more like the performance of an unskilful architect. I speak of the interior. The fine heroic statue, by Michael Angelo, of LoRENZODEMEDici,(inawarlike dress,) is placed within these walls. In attitude, Lorenzo sits resting on his left arm, his fingers touching his chin. The right arm being partly turned round, the back of the hand is placed upon the knee. His helmet projects considerably, and casts a shadow over the face, which greatly heightens the sublimity of the figure. He appears to be medi tating, and a more interesting figure can hardly be imagined : — the mysterious expression and cha racter, impressing the spectator with awe, are quite STATUES BY M. ANGELO. 139 original, and place Michael Angelo far above the sculptors of his time. Upon a sarcophagus, containing the ashes of Lorenzo de Medici, and immediately below his statue, are two reclining figures, (male and female,) said to represent Morning and Twilight. The head of the male is left unfinished, yet is full of ex pression; indeed, both figures are excellent, exhibit ing such noble uninterrupted contours, as none but such a genius as that of Michael Angelo could have conceived. Upon a sarcophagus immediate ly opposite, under the statue of Giovano di Medici, are two other reclining figures, representing Day and Night; the female statue abounds in grace, and the drapery takes the most pleasing folds ; with the exception of the lock of hair that falls upon the neck, the statue is completely finished, even to the highest gloss or polish, perhaps too much so, for the character of flesh, which even marble, as in some of the finest antique statues, should appear to represent. The head of the male figure looks over the right shoulder, but it appeared somewhat small, and perhaps placed rather too much to the left. Michael Angelo, after ascertaining general forms, seems to have finished as he advanced, and has occasionally preferred proceeding with the sub ordinate parts first. The back and shoulders of the last mentioned figure are remarkably fine, though rather broad for the proportion of the 140 STATUES BY M. ANGELO. figure ; the head is left in the same state as that of the corresponding statue on the opposite side. Were I to offer a criticism on these four statues of Morning, Noon, Twilight, and Night, I would venture to say, that they are not expressive of what they are intended to represent. I may like wise add, that, if we are to suppose the sarcophagi to contain the full size of the human form, the statues are out of all proportion too large, giving us the idea that the person entombed must be of a diminutive size ; but, if they contain the ashes only, the objection does not hold. I could wish, however, they had less the character of supporters to the figures. There is likewise in the Chapel de Depositi a statue of the Virgin and Child : the Virgin is left in a very rude state, but the Child is exquisitely done. Whether it proceeded from an inconstant disposition, or from any accidental circumstance, it is equally to be regretted, that this great man has left so many of his works unfinished. Some of the statues in the cathedral and other churches are made of leather ! From their appear ance, I should not have discovered this, had not one of them been considerably injured. The ma terial for effect seems to answer very well ; and it would not be easy to discover, that these saints, like some of their predecessors in our Saviour's time, were wolves in sheep's clothing. GHlBERTl's GATES. — PRISON. Ml Ghiberti's Brazen Gates at the baptistry of St John well deserve the praise so universaUy bestow ed on them, and it is not surprising that Michael Angelo should have said, that they were worthy of being the gates of paradise. The adjustment of every part is most agreeable to the eye, the breadth of them bearing a greater proportion to the height than is generaUy adopted in doors. Each folding door contains five scriptural subjects executed in all the gradations of reUef. In grouping, drawing, grace, and beauty, the figures are truly admir able ; the perspective, too, is well sustained, the distant objects being done in flat, the nearer objects in mezzo, and those close upon the eye in alto relievo. The flat relief, even to the trees and buildings, is executed to admiration ; the archi trave and frame are quite in harmony with the general richness of the whole. Among the principal features of Florence, the prison, which was the ancient Palazzo del Potesta, is a conspicuous object. The architecture is by Lappo, and highly characteristic of his style. On entering the court, one is struck with a certain air of chivalry and gloom united ; the walls are covered with various coats of arms, and the pro jecting roof throws a melancholy shade over all, and awakening some suspicion of personal safety, leads the mind back to those times of turbulence, when not a citizen could be trusted. We were 142 MAD-HOUSE. led to a great room in the centre of the building, and were not long in that situation before we saw a squalid crowd of wretched beings through the grates, which looked into their miserable dens, de spair glaring wildly in their unsettled eyes ! The nakedness of these unfortunate creatures, and the filth and vermin of their loathsome abode, had bet ter not be told. Five of them were lying dead in a small room ; but, whether from the jail dis ease, or other causes, I could not learn. Huma nity and charity, I fear, were far away ; and I am tempted to ask if the statue of Justice, which the Florentines have placed upon a lofty column, be in tended as emblematical, since it seems to imply that justice is out of reach. ¦-, The mad-house, which was formerly a monas tery, contains at present about two hundred pa tients. Love and religion seem to have turned the heads of the greatest number ; one imagines himself to be Cupid ; another, God ; and another, the Devil. The girls who are deranged from love, are generally from fourteen to fifteen years of age : one priest is confined for writing against the Grand Duke. The establishment has only one physician and a medical assistant, even when the number is considerably greater. Those in a state of great delirium are tied down naked in their beds with cotton bandages, which do not hurt them. Each individual may have a cell, and the SOCIETIES OF BUONUOMINI. MISERICORDIA. 143 name of the deranged person is placed above the door : there is one melancholy instance, however, of a father and two sons being confined in the same apartment. In Santa Maria Nuovella, the monks of the mo nastery make the best medicines in Florence ; the establishment is very considerable, and the public is plentifully served at an easy rate. I must con fess I had peculiar satisfaction in seeing the floors of several of the cells strewed with herbs for distillation, instead of being inhabited by stupid indolence. Tlie society of the Buonuomini di San Martino, composed of twenty gentlemen, and which, in for mer days, was ever ready to relieve suffering delir . cacy in distress, has, in a great degree, permitted^ its philanthropy to become a shadow, which none but the veriest apparations of misery can grasp, v* The society of the Misericordia, however, which numbers 400 respectable inhabitants, includ ing some of the principal nobility, are still in ac tive service, attending the sick, and burying the dead, and permitting no, circumstance to infringe upon their duty, however painful and revolting it may be. Even plagues have been no check to their benevolence. When we reflect that Leopold himself, who was a member of this institution, has carried wretchedness and death upon his shoulders, it is impossible to refuse respect and admiration to an establishment of such distinguished and conde scending humanity. vol. i. t LETTER XIII. FLORENCE. Academy delle Belle Arte. — Its Pictures, Casts, Drawings, Sfc. — Character of the Prize Pictures. — A more extensive Study of Nature recommended. — Rules qfthe Academy in regard to admission qf Students, Prizes, 8fc. — Porcelain Manufactory. — Artists Bartolini, Behvenuti, 8fc. — Morghen the Engraver. — Canova's Venus, compared with the Venus of Cleomenes, Leopold, following the enlightened views of the Medici family, turned his mind considerably to wards the arts. Perceiving the consequence and respect which they acquired for Italy, and, indeed, every country where they have flourished, he patro nized painting, drawing, modelling, architecture, engraving, and even Pietra Dura, or working in precious stones. The present government also, though, perhaps, too much inclined to encourage the Pietra Dura, has a considerable leaning towards the arts, which may be said to meet at present with very fair support in Florence. The Academy delle Belle Arte is an honour to the country. It hss not only produced artists of considerable merit in historical and scriptural composition, but likewise inspired a taste in various manufactures, and bids fair to be of farther and more extensive advantage to the country. 10 ACADEMY DELLE BELLE ARTE. 145 This institution has likewise a collection of early pictures, chiefly composed of those which belonged to the suppressed monasteries of Camaldoli, Vallom- brosa, &c. like the series at Bologna, and the Royal GaUery, it begins with Greek pictures ; and here, too, the progress of improvement is but slow. Indeed, from the commencement to Phi- lippo Lippi, there is no remarkable advance ; with him drawing, especially of the feet and hands, and, I may] add, composition and design, become very perceptible. Truth is successfully followed, and understood by Verochio Ghirlandajo, Lorenzo di Credi, and Perugino ; and came at length to per fection in the hands of Raphael. The series, how ever, is still imperfect ; and, indeed, unless better pictures of the various masters are exhibited together, it wiU be difficult to perceive the nice and delicate steps which the arts had made towards improve ment. The coUection of original Cartoons by Cor reggio, Raphael, Michael Angelo, Fra. Bartolom meo, Andrea del Sarto, and others, is extensive and superb ; besides these, the academy has many admirable drawings and designs, by almost every ancient painter, as well as by the masters of the Academy. The casts from the antique are nume rous and rare ; and in addition to these are several Terra Cotta studies by Michael Angelo, especially his botze or first ideas of the figures representing Morning, Noon, Twilight, and Night. These are vol. i. K t 14& PRIZE PICTURES. extremely curious and interesting, and shew how faithfully he has kept to them in his sculptured figures in -the Chapel de Depositi. , Besides these various means of improvement, the institution has a life academy, and a gallery con taining the prize pictures, models, &c. of the mo dern artists and students of the Academy. Many of these are well designed, and display a consider able knowledge in drawing. The models, in par ticular, have many claims to praise. * The archi tecture and landscapes, however, seemed to rank but low. Many of- the drawings in chalk are ex ecuted with the utmost neatness and finish, though as large as the statues from which they are copied. It may be doubted, however, whether the labour bestowed on these drawings might not be more profitably employed-; and whether drawings of. a smaller size might not be sufficient to give a cor rect idea of the originals, while, by enabling the student to obtain a greater variety, they would ex tend his knowledge of character and sentiment. Qn looking over the various modern works in * A basso relievo of the departure of /Eneas by Salvador l-pngiovanni,'a Sicilian artist, might do honour. to any age. For taste and purity of form, it has rarely been surpassed or equalled in modern times. The study of the ancient marbles does not appear to interfere with improvement in sculpture so much as in painting ; at least, the overdoing of this study is not apparent. MORE EXTENSIVE STUDY OF NATURE. 1 47 the Academy, I found the same want of nature in all which I observed in the pictures in the academy of Parma or Bologna. They have too much of a. pretty showy imitation of the antique, and there is in all a tiresome uniformity. This must arise from some defect in the mode of study. Indeed, I am still of opinion, that if an apartment for drawing and painting from nature, in a more general way than the mere naked figure, were introduced in addition to this, and the study of the antique, it might be of the first advantage. Why should colouring, drapery, grouping, and the various effects of light and shade, and reflected fight from colour, &c. be omitted ? These are aU necessary, as well as the simple nude, and it is in these that the great de fect of the modern Italian school seems to lie. There would be no danger of injuring, by this me thod, the taste of the student qf genius. On the contrary, by an early discrimination of the beauties and defects of hving objects in all their varieties and defects, (which might be pointed out to him,) combined with the study of the antique, he would be more in the road of the great painters of old, and have a fairer chance to obtain an immortal name. As far as a knowledge of art in sculpture or paint ing assists the study of nature, it is desirable ; but if, by an unskilful direction, it produces nothing but a herd of imitators, it were better to begin the course again, and start from simple nature, advanc- 148 RULES OF THE ACADEMY. ing from one step of improvement to another ; un less some means be taken to discover where the fault exists, and to correct it accordingly. I could almost wish that the academy would es tablish an occasional change of pictures, instead of having the same collection constantly on exhibition. Pictures for instruction should not be allowed to pall upon the eye, or to. produce in the students too, strong a prepossession in their favour. No young person is allowed to study in the academy without a good moral character. He must first present his petition to the president, who is always an artist of eminence, from whom it is handed to the committee, who determine the premi ums, and if they approve, the applicant is held elected. Formerly the youth were provided with materials for study gratis, but the French introduced a change of system, and made a charge for them, which, I understand, is still continued, except to the poor est class. Improper behaviour forfeits the benefits of the institution ; the time of attendance is indefi nite. There is a gallery in which the works of the students are exhibited for sale, except the premium pictures, which must always remain in the academy. When the youth contend for the prizes, they are first asked by the master if they propose to paint for . the premium or principal prize. To this prize any native of Tuscany may aspire, but not unless he has been previously taught in PORCELAIN MANUFACTORY. 149 the Academy. The pictures are painted at home, that the judges may not know hy whom they ,are done. When the paintings or drawings for the prizes are finished, they are very properly (to prevent partiality) hung up on exhibition for three days, in order that the public may judge of their merit. The president, too, generally exhibits some of his works along with them, which serves, in some degree, to discover their defects. The highest prize at present does not exceed eight or ten gui neas. The best of the unsuccessful pupils, that they may not be altogether disappointed, are en couraged by a medal. There are two exhibitions in a year, instead of one as formerly. This was suggested by the French, who thought it better to divide the *prizes, which were at one time of double the present value. Four young men are annuaUy sent to Rome, where they generally remain for several years for the benefit of further study and encouragement ; those, of course, are chosen from the most promising and able students. The expence is entirely defrayed by government. On visiting the Porcellane, which is a celebrated manufacture of porcelain, belonging to the Marquis Ginori, I was immediately 6truck with the advantage of the Academy and the study of drawing, paint- jng, and modelling, as referable to manufacture. 150 BARTOLINI, SANTORILLI, BENVENUTI. It was, indeed, extremely gratifying to find the arts so useful in supplying so many ingenious peo* pie of all ages with the means of living respectably, and of exciting a general taste, by the beautiful forms which they produced. The Marquis Ginori well deserves the approbation of his country, and it is pleasing to perceive how completely he has conquered feeling, in allowing his name to be annexed to the most insignificant production of his manufactory. The manufacture and sculp ture in alabaster is likewise carried to a great ex tent, and many ornaments, vases, and figures, &c. are executed with spirit and truth. Bartolini, as a sculptor, is the Canova of Florence, and has produced some busts, particularly of British cha racters, that do him infinite honour. Santorilli, as a modeller and engraver of seals, is an artist of con siderable merit; his best performances, however, are such as he produces from the antique, or cele brated modern works. Benvenuti, the president of the academy, is at the head ofhistory-paintirag, and may rank with our ve nerable West, though not so great an artist in origi nal conception of his subjects, or in expressive execu. tion. Fabre and other artists have considerable talent, but principally in the scriptural department. Por trait-painting is not so much a profession by itself as it is in Britain, nor does it seem to be so much encouraged. Benvenuti is the principal artist in M0RGHEN. 151 that interesting branch, but his pictures are not equal even to our second rate portraits in England. Miniature-painting is equally low ; there is nothing to compare with our celebrated Thomson of Edin burgh. Morghen may be said to be the first engraver in the world ; his print of the Last Supper gives him an immortal name. In the prosecution of that celebrated work, he had to encounter consi derable difficulty from the ruinous state of the painting by Da Vinci ; he did as much as could be done, however, from its poor remains, and had recourse to a good copy to assist him in the de fective parts. This celebrated artist, in addition to his many excellent works, has it in contempla tion to engrave the Notte (or Night piece) of Cor reggio, — a subject, in every respect, worthy of his genius. He is likewise desirous to make an en graving from our magnificent picture of Charles I. on horseback, by Vandyke. These, it must be confessed, are great undertakings for a man up wards of 65 years of age. His last work, I regret to say, is from a picture by Batoni, a master of little merit ; and at present, his admirable talent is deplorably misemployed on a miserable copy after Leonardo da Vinci. Why he should make such a choice, especially with so many splendid pictures at his command, it is impossible to conjecture. He is apprehensive that his ardour 152 VENUS OF CANOVA. may be considerably damped in regard to the Notte and Charles L, from the difficulty of procuring good drawings of them. This celebrated man is liberal and communicative, and makes no secret of his art. When engraving, he sits close upon a window with his back to the light, with an inclined screen of tissue paper to reflect upon his work. He is a great admirer of the English school of engraving, especially of WooUett's works, many of which, with some of the best of the French school, cover the walls of his room. His establishment for printing, and the sale of his works, is very con siderable ; the British are his greatest purchasers ; but it is to be regretted that he is so totally care less of his fame, as to offer the merest shadows of his plates for sale. The plates, both of the Last Supper and of the Transfiguration, should have been cut to pieces, long before they were brought to their present degraded state. The Venus of Can ova, in the Palazzo Pitti, combines most interesting modesty with grace and beauty. That great artist has, indeed, done honour to the fair sex in his delicate concep tion of their character. The Venus of Cleomenes, (De Medicis,) no doubt, has suggested much to Canova in this skilful production of his chisel, into which he has succeeded in infusing the gene ral purity of his archetype. To heighten, if possi ble, the sentiment of modesty, Canova has brought VENUS OF CANOVA. 153 to his aid the addition of drapery. Still that vir tue is not more deUcately expressed, than in the simple and unaffected attitude of the Venus de Medicis ; the departing from which, even in the shghtest degree, would seem to injure her perfec tion. Although the Venus of Canova displays his consummate skill and knowledge of the female form, it must yield to its only companion, the Mistress of the World! * * The statue of Venus de Medicis has been sadly mutilat ed. The head and arms have been broken off. It has like wise been greatly injured under the right breast and on the belly. The right thigh, and the foot and ancle, have been broken. The fingers and point of the great toe are entirely new. The restorations are admirably done, and produce no disagreeable effect on the statue. LETTER XIV. FLORENCE. Description of the Pictures in the Palazzo Pitti, and likewise the Palaces Corsini, Gerini, Mozzi, Ricardi. — Palace of Marquis Amelio Puci, and Pdndotphini. X he Palazzo Pitti contains the most select collec tion of pictures in Florence ; those taken by the French, sixty-three in number, being all restored. There are likewise some good statues, and the roofs of the various apartments are painted in fresco, by ancient artists of great celebrity ; the toute en semble presenting a splendid and princely specta cle. ' But how to convey to you any idea of the merits of the numerous pictures, I must own I am greatly puzzled. To name them all would be an endless task, and to select a few seems injustice to the rest. This method, nevertheless, I shall be ob liged to adopt ; and perhaps it may be my best plan to give you my notes as I made them on the spot, beginning withthefirst, and advancing through the suite of rooms, and leave you to follow me or not, as you please. First Room. Salvator Rosa. It is refreshing to see a pleasing landscape, after PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. 155 the monotonous and fatiguing collection of scrip tural subjects. We are here presented with a paint ing by Salvator Rosa, which is one of the finest pictures that I have seen by his hand. The com position consists of Buildings and Shipping, much in the style of Claude. It wants, however, that natural character, which always gives a charm to the works of that inimitable master. Salvator is never without manner, but, in this picture, it is less offensive, and the colouring, which is light, accom panied with harmonious tones of grey, is natural and pleasing. Its companion by the same master, at the opposite end, can only be called a splendid wreck. Rubens. A Landscape in a grand style : the great leading line of the picture runs from the left corner at the bottom, nearly to the right corner at the top, and is pleasingly relieved by a flat horizon. Accident al lights appear to travel up the face of a lofty mountain, touching various divisions, wood and buildings; the fore-ground in shadow, gives ample relief to aU. The general tone of colouring is grey, and natural, without any positive darkness, the richness of colour on the figures near the eye, being sufficient for the purpose of removing the various objects to their proper distance. The whole is admirably diversified with various inci- 156 PICTURES IN THE PALAZZO PITTI. dent; and the buildings, though not so well drawn as those of Poussin or Claude, are, nevertheless, well conceived and freely pencUled. Its compa nion is a pastoral subject, fresh, natural, and in the most fascinating harmony, evidently representing a Scene in Holland, surprising us by the effect which may be produced, with skilful management, out of a few fields and scraggy trees. The figures carry ing turnips in the fore-grounds are not only ad mirably painted, but introduced for a special pur pose, as will soon be discovered by those who know the value of a brilliant touch of light. The sha dows of both of these pictures are warmer than the colour laid upon them : of the latter there is an engraving by Bolswert, Salvator Rosa. His Battle Piece is expressive of turbulence, violence, mystery, and incident; yet a little spotty, from the circumstance of the principal white horse not being well connected with the other illuminat ed figures. The Battle piece by Rubens, in the Salle de Niobe, is much superior from its leading tiie mind completely into the field, Titian. Titian is the prince of portrait-painters ! Never was a more lovely, innocent, feminine expression painted, than his Portrait of a Lady. It is nature PICTURES IN THE PALAZZO PITTI. 157 without caprice, captivating every heart that is sus ceptible of the charm of modesty. Rembrandt. Portrait of an Aged Man. I have often seen pictures of masterly execution, but this outstripsthem all! Such apiece of feeling! no softening, or finish ing ; the truest tones of colour are laid together ; and evidently done at once, with an eye conversant with the purity of the palette. The penciUing is rich, fuU, and translucent, shewing, as it were, an internal Ught in the picture, which beams upon the admiring spectator. When the painting has been advanced a certain length, Rembrandt seems to have retired a step or two, and with a few broad touches, combined the insulated parts and inhar monious tones, shewing the most sovereign power ever his pencU and materials. Second Room. Called P. Cartona, from the pictures on the roof, painted by that master. Titian. Half length portrait of Cardinal Hippolito: matchless in dignity ! the terms in painting and the nomenclature of colouring are so imperfect, that it is impossible to give any idea of this superb pro duction of the pencil. The Cardinal appears of 158 PICTURES in PALAZZO pitti. the family of the mighty. He is represented in a military dress of brown; on his head is a turban- looking cap, one hand is laid on the hilt of his sword, the other rests upon his staff; the noble and manly expression of his countenance making a lasting impression on the mind. Portrait of Paul the Third, by Titian ; an ex quisite picture of an Old Man in a crimson dress ; he looks serious, and commands respect. Cigoli. A Descent from the Cross ; a wonderful pic* ture in composition, splendid colouring, and gran* deur of style. This is by much the finest picture of the master in Florence : it would do honour to the pencil of Raphael or Correggio, and, indeed, surpasses many of their works. It leaves upon the mind a solemn and impressive effect, as if the moral world had received a shock by the awful event which it represents. The Saint Francis by the same master is true to nature. In colouring, Cigoli surrounds his brown and rich colours with blue and greyish tones, which always have a good effect. Third Room, Raphael. The famous picture Madonna della Siggiola, to which persons of all nations bend their knee, 6 PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. 159 graces the wall of this apartment. It is a mellow picture, but somewhat dusky and brown. I know not how it happens to have charmed the world so much ; there are better pictures by Raphael, in Flo rence, even in the Palazzo Pitti. The Infant Christ appears a fine chubby looking child, but the legs are certainly too bulky for his size, and would better suit an infant Hercules. Fra. Bartolommeo. His picture of Saint Mark is strikingly grand, and at first sight might be taken for a work of Mi chael Angelo's. It may appear ridiculous, but I hare often fancied what kind of voice such tremen dous figures might have ; I never could suppose it to be but rough, gruff, hoarse, and unpleasing. The Holy Family by Julio Romano shines a- mong the shining ; and none of the other masters shew more beautiful drawing, composition, or ex pression* The paintings by Andrea del Sarto are always weU drawn and coloured, but occasionally, especial ly when he introduces many figures, their grouping is imperfect ; and sometimes there is a want of aerial perspective. Rubens' Groupe of his Parents and Family. Few pictures excel this excellent family piece. It 160 PICTURES IN THE PALAZZO PITTI. is luminous arid fresh as the day ; every difficulty in combination is happily overcome no unpleasing division appears ; and the pencil wanders in all the mazes of intricacy with captivating freedom ! What a delightful art portrait-painting seems to be in such creating hands ! By them the evane scent glances of character are immediately caught, and rendered permanent. The celebrated portrait of Cardinal Benti voglio, by the pencil of Vandyke, said to be one of the finest by the master, well deserves a place among the first works in that department ; the subject is dignified and imposing effect. Carlo Dolci. St Peter: This picture of the saint is as large as life, and the colouring of the flesh is clear and na tural, but the drapery, which is painted with pure ultra-marine, appears a little glaring. Colouring, how beautiful soever it may be in itself, is always faulty, unless it be accompanied with character and expression. Christofano Allori. Judith with the head of Holofernes, admirably painted; but Judith looks very stupid and haughty, holding the head with the utmost indifference ; the old lady behind her with her head wrapped up in 10 PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. 161 flannel had better have been represented at a spin ning wheel. Fourth Room. Cleopatra, by Guido, beautiful, clear, and Ught in colouring, but perhaps rather too white and chalky for nature. This often occurs in the pic tures by Guido ; the sUvery style is very pleasing, but the excess of it is perhaps as offensive as som bre darkness. Moroni. Portrait of the Nurse of Lorenzo de Medici, a strong hale-looking woman, somewhat like a lady in appearance, extremely well painted, rich and natural, more like the style of Titian than Moroni's usual manner. Moroni deservedly stands high, and this picture does him ample justice. Titian. A Holy Family reposing, painted in his usual broad, full-toned, and magnificent style. No one can pass this picture without confessing that the Vene tian manner of colouring is well adapted to scrip tural subjects. It hangs among the works of Ra phael, Caracci, JuUo Romano, &c. ; and its mel low quiet character interests the mind, while the strong or direct colouring of the Italian school occasionally attracts the eye, and interferes with VOL. I. L 162 PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. the sentiment. The pictures by Paul Veronese likewise maintain their place, and the style and colouring deserve to rank in the highest department of art. Rubens. A Holy Family. This picture seems to be a collection of portraits ; florid and ruddy health ap pears in all. St John is a beautiful little cherub with curly locks. The fault of this picture is, that familiar nature is too perceptible, and this leads me to say, that likenesses of individual persons, or children, never appear adapted for such a subject ; as a compliment to a worthy family, it may be very well, but a higher view of .nature is absolute ly necessary for any reference to Scripture. Fifth Room. Carlo Dolci. A small picture of a Holy Family reposing ; St John is asleep, Joseph reclines reading a book ; delicacy of pencilling can go no farther, but th< picture is spotty to a great degree; every figure is a picture by itself, contributing nothing to the general effect ; even a piece of white linen, which is held up by the Virgin Mary, is forced upon the eye, showing neither good taste nor good design. Carlo Dolci, with a few exceptions, has failed when he attempted more than a single head or figure ; this I have often had occasion to remark. It is indeed PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. 163 to be regretted, that beautiful painting in his hands appears incapable of exciting interest in composi tion; his means are too scanty, and his whole machinery too perceptible for the poetry of paint ing. Raphael. The Virgin upon the Throne, a picture of great size, and containing many figures ; powerful in effect, and one of his finest paintings. The pic tures in England by this immortal master give no idea of the splendour of his works, his texture and surface, or fulness of pencil. Sebastian del Piombo. The Martyrdom of St Agatha, from a design by Michael Angelo. This picture, light and rich, is very different from his usual style of colouring, which is dark, solemn, and impressive. The sub ject, however, is extremely disagreeable ; we can have no pleasure in looking at a couple of brutes tearing off the breasts of a beautiful female with irons. How Michael Angelo, and Sebastian del Piombo, could employ their splendid talents on such a subject, (if this was really their conjoint work,) appears unaccountable. I would rather they had been engaged together in detailing, like Dante, the sufferings of the infernal dominions, which might, at least, have had a good moral effect. 164 pictures in palazzo pitti. Julio Romano. His Dance of the Muses is full of spirit and taste, and the drawing exquisite ; the figures, per haps, may appear alittle hard against the gilded back ground, which, from its shining appearance, gives a dead greyish tone to the flesh. The names of the muses are marked under each figure. Large Room. Georgioni. A picture of great merit, consisting of the por traits of John Calvin, Martin Luther, and his Wife. Luther is represented playing on a harpsi chord, and Calvin has a mandoline in his hand. In their countenances there is nothing very expressive or remarkable ; certainly not indicating that they were the great reformers. Titian. A Head of our Saviour, in the grand style. Rays of light emanate from the head, and the coun tenance, though manly, is extremely mild. His dark hair hangs straight upon blue drapery, which covers a vestment of red. Bassan. Christ in the Garden. A good picture, without his usual vulgarity; the best, indeed, I have seen of PICTURES IN PALAZZO PITTI. 165 this master. Occasionally Bassan's colouring is very fine, translucent, and rich, and this picture would do honour to a greater name. His works are numerous every where on the Continent ; he painted with a rapid pencil, and does not seem to have given himself much trouble in composition. Si milar attitudes appear in many of his works ; there is no mistaking them ; a good broad back presents itself to the spectator, united with a certain Dutch character, in most of his pictures. He thought, however, for himself, and, notwithstanding his man nerism and sameness, he well deserves a name. There are many other admirable pictures in this great room by Titian, Cigoli, Perugino, Guido, Caracci, Caravaggio, Luine, Holbein, &c. Small Room adjoining the large one. Raphael. Portrait of Leo X. ; a very surprising picture. We can only think of the real personage. The fulness of dignity and lofty character expressed in this celebrated picture, conveys the idea that Leo was formed for great undertakings. Two secre taries appear behind him, and for a time we almost imagine ourselves in his presence. No painter, not even Titian, has surpassed Raphael in his finest portraits ; and this picture of Leo X. is, per haps, one of the finest in the world. 166 pictures in palazzo pitti. Titian. A Venus with flowing Hair, a half length pic ture. Titian has had some singular fancy regarding the beauty of hair, and in this painting it would seem he imagined he could not give enough. It is of a reddish tone between the flaxen and carrot, and would descend down to the heels, were it not held in the hand, which is covered with it. In paint ing and colouring the picture is inimitable, but why Titian should have given his mind principally to the hair, I own I am at a loss tp conceive. Neither the neck, breast, arms, nor hands, are visi ble. Yet, who shall say it is not a captivating picture ? Julio Romano's copy of Julius II. is heavy, and without the clearness of the original ; this seems surprising from so great a master. M. Angelo. The Fates. — One of the three pictures in oil, said to be painted by his immortal hand. It is a clever sketchy performance, and very different in pencilling from his Holy Family in the Tri bune ; so different, indeed, that I should almost doubt whether it is really a production of his pencil, The Fates are represented as mere skin and bone, with a sort of fiendish expression, ex tremely revolting. pictures in palazzo pitti. 167 Raphael. The Madonna della Impagnata is consi dered one of lus chef d'ceuvres, especially in rich ness of colouring ; the drawing, too, is almost fault less. In composition there is nothing wanting; but in expression it may not be equal to many others of Raphael's works ; — take it all in all, we shaU seldom look upon its like again. Domenichino. A half length, perfect in colouring and pencil ling, especially the flesh. The whole tone of the picture is most agreeable, the grey hues in the back-ground harmonizing with the rich colours, and producing a bewitching splendour. In these notes I have mentioned only a few of the leading pictures in the Palazzo Pitti. Many others, highly deserving of particular notice, are omitted, but such as I have described may, per haps, enable you to judge of this magnificent col lection. They are invariably hung in gorgeous frames on dark green and crimson velvet grounds ; and here I may remark, that the olive and yellow grounds are better adapted for landscapes and Ught pictures, but especially drawings ; a salmon colour likewise is favourable to landscape painting. The gardens of the palace are laid out in regu lar walks, partly on the slope of a hill or hanging ground. Numerous statues grace the various ave- 168 PICTURES IN C0RSINI PALACE. nues and verdant lanes, and cool refreshing fountains invite the eye to dwell upon their silver lines. The cypress trees and shrubbery beautifully com bine with the various delightful views of Florence ; and if there is a paradise on earth, it is certainly there. The public are not permitted to walk in these gardens, except on Sundays and Thursdays, when they are generally fiUed with gay and fashion able pepple. The finest views are from the Belvi- dere, but especially near the palace itself, where the various objects are at no great distance from the eye ; and part of the Palazzo Pitti appears in the striking scene. In the Corsini Palace the pictures are but second rate, except a Female Head, crowned with a wreath of leaves, by Carlo Dolci. The dress is blue with golden stars. In finishing it has all the characteristic expression of the master. The Sebastian and a Head of our Saviour, said to be the productions of his pencil, are by no means in good taste. The latter may be an original, but the former I suspect is by an inferior hand. Carlo Dolci, however, as well as other celebrated masters, could sometimes paint very indifferent pictures. A picture of the Death of Priam, by Benve nuti, president of the academy, and one of his best works, hangs in the Corsini Palace. In design and drawing it is not inferior to English art, but in all other respects it is greatly defective. It GERINI PALACE. 169 does not delude the mind into the real story, so as to make us forget pretty colouring, and accu racy, and care, and all the train of attributes, which are trifling when compared with that com manding energy of expression, which seizes on the mind, and transports us as parties into the awful scene. The Gerini Palace is full of pictures, very few of which are fine, and these few are likely to dis appear very soon ; the proprietor being very de sirous to dispose of them. The best are as fol lows : A St Sebastian by Guercino ; the figure is too young for a saint or hero of exalted sentiment: A Virgin and Child by Vandyke, exquisitely coloured, and forcibly pencilled : A small picture by Raphael, of an Infant Christ, natural and beautiful : A St Sebastian by Guido, very little colour, excellent in drawing and anato mical expression ; quite in his silvery style, but by no means a first rate picture : A sketch by Rubens of the Ascension, freely painted, but mannered to a great degree : The Martyr dom of St Andrew by Carlo Dolci ; the head of the saint is finely painted, but it is com mon nature: A Holy Family by Fra. Barto lommeo ; broad style, but bad drawing : An An nunciation by Paul Veronese, masterly in pen cilling, and admirable in colouring : A Holy Family by Guido; Joseph holds the Infant Christ 170 PICTURES IN MOZZI PALACE. with great feeling, and seeming fatherly attention; there is a conesponding expression of pleasure in the face of the child, which is natural and capti vating : A Landscape by Salvator Rosa ; very good, and uncommon in composition. Some Bat tles ; Borgonone's are free, but not first rate : A few Landscapes by Both (if they are Both's) are tawney and bad : Innumerable pictures composed from the various ruins of Rome, all indifferent ; triumphal arches, temples, and sarcophagi, are strangely jumbled together, without taste. The Mozzi Palace can boast of a few good pictures, particularly a Carlo Dolci, finer than that in the Gerini Palace, and, of its kind, perhaps one of the best in Florence. The subject is the Adora tion of the Magi. A fine ideal expression of beauty pervades the figure and attitude of the Vir gin and Child. The head of Joseph is exquisitely painted, and likewise the figure presenting the gift to the Infant Christ. From the Magi appearing immediately on the fore-ground, the Virgin seems rather small, and the swarthy figure too large. The hands, generally, are indifferently done, and the picture wants effect. Carlo Dolci's usual spottiness, when he introduces more than one or two figures, is very perceptible in this painting, and extremely unpleasing ; yet it cannot be an indifferent work of art that can boast of exquisite finishing, nature, and expression. PICTURES IN MOZZI PALACE. 171 The Mount of Olives, by Guido, is beauti fully painted. Guido is fond of yellow and orange back-grounds; they are certainly calculated to height en silvery effect, and the clear reflected lights, to which he seemed so partial. A Boy's Head, by Correggio, is quite a little gem of nature. A Head, by M. Angelo, in fresco, very grand ; the crispness of touch and play of pencU is very pleasing. It is a delightful mode of painting that does not allow the fire of genius to be extinguished, but excites an additional glow by the ready means which it affords for expressing every change of thought. The Saint Lucia, by Guercino, is a captivating Uttle picture ; deUcacy, beauty, and finishing, pre? vaU in every part ; the hands especially are exqui site : Guercino's taste is always pure. The pictures by Borgonone in this palace are very sketchy ; but, what sketches ! few men have had a freer pencil, uniting truth with spirit. In his Battles of Radicofani and Perugia, the back-grounds are merely scumbled over the priming in the slightest manner, the priming itself occasionally answering for the shadows. There are several paintings by Salvator Rosa, but they are all slight and careless. In his shipping he has introduced ropes in situations that never could exist. Most of the ancient masters have painted por traits. An admirable portrait by Paul Veronese, fi- 172 PICTURES in mozzi palace. nished in a fine general, yet very careful manner, will not fail to attract the eye. It would seem that those illustrious men were fully aware of the great advantage of painting faithfully from nature, uniting her varied character with the noble con ceptions of their own minds. Zuccherelli's Storm, with Macbeth and the Witches, engraved by Woollett, is in this palace ; it is a slight clever picture, but certainly with no pretensions to the praise of well studied nature. Benvenuti's picture of the Saxons swearing Fidelity to Napoleon by the Light of the Moon is one of his best paintings. Napoleon is represented in his grey frock coat, and the prin cipal light falls on him and a group of officers be hind. Napoleon is on the right, the Saxons on the left. The principal figure next to Bonaparte is an aged man, who is offering his oath of allegiance. The picture, considering the materials, is very well composed. A collection of figures, in modern mili tary uniform, have seldom a good effect. Even in this painting, they are unpleasing from the tight ness of every part of the dress ; they appear stuffed, and seem to have no joints. Benvenuti's taste for architecture is always good and applicable to his subject. In the Palazzo Mozzi we were much amused by the Custodi's giving the title of Mon sieur to Michael Angelo and Raphael. The Ricardi Palace is by much the finest build- ricardi palace. 173 ing in Florence. The noble projecting cornice at the top has a very grand effect. Within, however, there is a melancholy gloom, which immediately throws a damp over the mind. The chapel, in the interior of the palace, is dark and dismal to the last degree ; without a torch, it would be impossi ble to see the walls. When the light was brought, we perceived saints in glass coffins, relics of various descriptions, sculls, and other emblems of supersti tion. By the light of a taper, fixed to a rod, we examined the fresco paintings by Benozzo Gozzoli, representing the Visit of the Magi. They are very ancient, and, notwithstanding the formality of many of the figures, and the want of nature in back-grounds, they have considerable, merit. The figures are like nothing of the present day, yet they seem to be copied wholly from nature. The variety is endless and amusing, offering much to admire, and Uttle to condemn. The roof of the gallery is painted by Luca Gior dano, and represents the Course of Human Life. His light sketchy style is well adapted to this department of art, the occasional errors in his drawing being less offensive than in his paintings in ofl. The marbles in the Ricardi Palace are, in ge neral, but indifferent. A few, however, are good, particularly two basso relievos in small square 174 PALACE OF MARQUIS PUd. frames. The two Dancing Figures may be Greek workmanship, but certainly not of the highest kind. The basso relievo of the Centaur is the best. The palace of the Marquis Amelio Puci has no pictures of any merit. We were much pleased, however, with the furnishing of several of the apart ments ; — one of them I shall attempt to describe. The body of the room was a pale light green, the borders, ornaments, and pannels white, with beautiful basso relievos in the centre of the squares. The roof was also green, enriched with ornament in white, corresponding with that of the walls. The doors, each composed of one solid piece of wood, quite plain, without pannels, simply gilded round the edge, were of a light brownish yellow ; the shutters of the same colour. The window curtains, of dark green satin, were lined with the purest white silk, with a deep rich fringe. The chairs were of a delicate pale grey, with white and green silk bottoms. There Was something so chaste in the appearance of the whole, that I could not re sist taking a note of it; several other apartments were fitted up with taste. The doors, particu larly, looked remarkably well. Strange to say, the entrance to this beautiful suite of rooms was most offensively mean and dirty. The cur tains to the windows were of common cloth, pandolphini palace. 175 and the tables were of fir, and of the rudest workmanship. The Italian Palaces, in short, pre sent a singular contrast of richness and apparent misery. The architecture of the Pandolphini Palace is simple and grand. The projecting cornice of the roof, like that of the Ricardi, unites well with the belts and friezes. On viewing it from without, the entrance being composed of beau tiful columns, springing up among evergreens and elegant plants, one expects to advance into an elegant dweUing. By the help of a piece of common rope, you ascend steps on which the dirt is never disturbed, and are surprised to find your self in a filthy room, with wretched brick floors. With the exception of a cartoon of a colossal Cupid, the Palazzo Pandolphini contains nothing in the shape of art. Wine is sold in almost aU the palaces, not whole sale, but in single bottles. A small arched opening, not exceeding eighteen or twenty inches, just large enough to admit a flask, with a door and knocker, may be seen in the front of the building, generally near the principal entrance. Nothing can appear more ridiculous than the hand putting out the flask of wine, wlrile a carriage is driving up in great state with princes and princesses. The wine is of va rious qualities, from a penny to fivepence a bottle, 176 CASCINE. — CERTOSA. containing nearly a quart. At present, the best wine is sold at the Corsini Palace. Since I have spoken of a carriage with princes and princesses, I may inform you, that the fa shionable drive is the Cascine. The nobility and gentry generally assemble at an early hour after dinner, and drive among the avenues, or halt in the space from whence the different walks com mence. Here the ladies, with their Cavalieri Serventi, will flirt for hours, and a more stupid scene can hardly be imagined. This situation, however, affords strangers the best opportunity for seeing the Tuscan Fair ; and I am much in clined to think they will be greatly disappointed, not only with their persons, but their voice and manners. One of the most agreeable country drives near Florence is to the monastery called the Certosa, a few miles from town. For a short way we are confined between walls, which intercept the view; but we soon reach the open country, and are pre sented with varied ground and hills, beautifully covered with olives, vines, and innumerable pic turesque and pleasing buildings. The monastery is built on a circular hill, and the building, which is extremely irregular, seems of various dates. This, however, is favourable to picturesque effect, and there are few subjects in Tuscany which a painter would sooner study. The great square with MONASTERY OF CERTOSA. 177 in the monastery, is surrounded by » colonnade supporting the roof. Each hermit had two or three small apart ments to himself, besides a little plot of ground. Some of them were employed in turning, paint ing, or reading ; some cultivated their gar dens; while others would mope in gloomy me lancholy. When they met each other, they sel dom spoke, silence being a virtue of the order of St Bruno. Their food was put upon shelves, whieh turned upon a swivel, in a small wicket, o» the outside of the wall, near the door of their- apartment, forming something like a cupboard within. The serving monk, by pressing the wick et, brought round the shelves ; on which the va rious viands were no sooner placed, than the hun gry hermit was ready to remove them. One of their principal amusements after meals was to feed about two hundred eats, which came mewing and squalling under the windows of the monas tery from the woods below : so much do our social feelings require some objects for their exercise, that, in the absence of human society, they impel us to a kind of intimacy even with the inferior creation. The rooms were cleaned when the her mits went to prayers. This was one of the monastic establishments suppressed by Napoleon ; but tbe present go vernment is to permit its restoration. The cells VOL. I. M 178 FIESOLE. and rooms are repairing, and on the 6th of No-» vember, the Festival of St Bruno, twenty-six of the order (which never consisted of more than forty) are to re-enter with all their characteristic state and silence. In the small chapel I perceived mock candles upon the altar, but no good pictures on the walls. The Crucifixion, by Mariotti, is but indifferent ; nothing can appear more ridiculous than the angel holding two cups to catch the blood from the hands and side of our Saviour. The frescoes by Pucetti have greater merit. He has suc ceeded well in his picture of the Death of San Bruno, which happily unites ideal beauty with identity in many of the portraits of the monks. In the cloisters there is some good painted glass, from designs after Raphael ; this was hid when the French suppressed the mo nastery. The mahogany seats are also designed by his universal genius. Fiesole is the favourite drive, both with the Flo rentine and the stranger ; but the road is so narrow, that if two carriages happen to meet, it is possible they may not have room to pass. I have met with several instances of this, which have occasioned great delay, and some danger of unplea sant accidents. But all our risks have been reward ed by the exquisite views which the hill of Fiesole presents. " One vast world of wonder spreads fiesole. 179 around, and all the poet's tales are truly told." The finest time to view this splendid scene is about twelve or one o'clock, before the sun gets round to destroy the breadth of effect. The antiquarian will have a feast at Fiesole ; — Cyclopian walls of huge uncemented blocks, not parallel, but composed of stones of different sizes, and some of them indented into each other ; — an amphitheatre, and founda tions of noble buddings. The man of feeling, too, wiU be pleased to see the clusters of the vine sus pended over the dark portals, where gladiators and wfld beasts have entered for destruction. Bello S'guardo, and the ViUa Strozze, offer the finest scenes imaginable, and S. Miniato al Monte gives the noblest view of Florence. Letter xv. FLORENCE. Visit to the three Sanctuaries, Vallombrosa, CamdMoli, and La Verna. — Reflections on Monastic Institutions. On our excursion to the three celebrated sanctua ries, we followed the Arno's " shelvy sides ; " and a little beyond Pelago, we struck off for the moun tainous regions in which Vallombrosa, Camaldoli, and La Verna are seated, among all the attributes of the sublime and romantic scenery. Vallombrosa, though not exactly agreeing with Milton's description,* has still that lofty character which bids the imagination be free and uncon trolled, and has suggested a delicious paradise to the divine poet. But, although Milton's description of paradise be not strictly referable to Vallombrosa, which served him as a study, but of which he never in tended to make an accurate delineation, yet it bears a nearer resemblance to it, both in general cha racter and in detail, than the verses of Pope,t quot ed by Eustace, as being the best poetical descrip tion of that famed retreat. There is nothing in *Parad. Lost, Book 4. line 13 1—143. f Eloisa. VALLOMBROSA. 181 the lines of Milton so unlike tlie original, as " the lakes that quiver to the curling breeze," not even the " cedar and pine, and fir, and branching paimu" Lakes there are none, and palms there are none ; but I can more easily conceive a palm than a lake among the sylvan scenes of Vallombrosa. Then, again, the winding streams that shine between the hilis, though they glitter very prettily in the poet'js page, have no reference to the deep ravines, hiding the fretful brooks in gloomy shade. In short, our imaginations were so raised by the various descriptions of Vallombrosa, both in verse and prose, that we felt a little disappointed with the general view of tbe place itself. The poet and the painter, in their (descriptions, seem to view natural scenery in a different manner. Both, however, must be charmed with the magni ficence and splendour of the wooded mountains of Vallombrosa ; both must be struck with the beauty of the chesnut, and the gloom of the sable pine. They may likewise be equally charmed with the various effects and local features of the place ; a simdar sentiment may impress the mind of both. But the poet, in his description, fleets from de tached parts which may not be seen together, com bining them so as to give what he conceives to be a general idea of the whole. The painter, on the other hand, though he may also select, must make his representation -a faithful portrait, strictly re- 182 VALLOMBROSA. ferable to his subject. He, therefore, is more par ticular in his examination of the component parts, in order to judge whether they may be favourable for picture; whether, in short, the details, and the great characteristic features, are in unison with each other. In this respect, the painter may not be altogether satisfied with the general appearance of Vallombrosa. The uniform curved lines of the hills, the formal building, the regular pavement, are all against the sentiment inspired by the poet, or the florid describer, and certainly not compati ble with the ideal beauty in the painter's mind ; yet the latter, in his representation or portrait of the scene, has to contend with these, and I doubt whether there be any point of view in which the sanctuary, with the " darksome pines that o'er its rocks recline," can be taken so as to an swer the expectations excited by the poet. But what painter, on seeing Vallombrosa, would not confess that parts of the scenery are fully equal to the finest description whatever, and that he could select such as might enable him to produce a com position which would be striking and sublime? But would it be Vallombrosa ? yet it is by similar means that the poet makes his beguiling pictures. The suppression of this famous monastery has certainly not improved the morals of the inhabit ants in its vicinity. Without employment, they have generally become a wretched set of mendi- VALLOMBROSA. 183 cants, teasing the traveller beyond endurance ; even the monastery was no sanctuary to us from their persevering and harassing persecution. * Vallom brosa in such a wretched state ! it was absolutely painful to behold it. One small room, containing a miserable bed, two chairs, and a table of rude construction, was the only part inhabited in the vast and extensive buildings. In the ancient kitchen, three or four men, like as many robbers, were sitting round the fire. Deplorable, however, as the place appeared, we determined to pass the night there, and having brought some provisions with us, we had a rousing fire kindled in the smaU apartment, and the crack ling flames resounded through the range of empty galleries. In the morning, we viewed the interior of the deserted building, and in the room which was the library, we found the shelves still remain ing, with labels describing the literature which each had formerly contained. A fresco picture or two, and some remains of ornament, still further heightened the appearance of desolation. The hermitage, called the Paradisino, appeared as if it would shortly be a ruin ; and from the wretched condition of the whole establishment, we * Since writing the above, I have learned that several of the monks have returned, and that the monastery, in course of time, is likely to be on its former footing. 184 CAMALDOLI. can hardly believe that tbe majestic organ, or the voices of the choir, will again sound, where " Black mdancholy sits, and round her throws " A death-like silence, and a dread r<_po_e." Our way to the Sanctuary of Camaldoli lay over mountains, through woods and valleys ; but we often looked back on the foliaged hills and namks of Vallombrosa, and the smooth and pastoral ,downs above the woods. The noble ruins of Romena, chief of Val d' Arno Inferiore, courted our admiration, and we were also delighted with the distant towns and winding waters. Entering the Vale of Prato Vecchio, we were struck with its riches and varied verdure; and cpuld not well believe that the glorious sun of Italy that threw his rays across the Apennines, into scenes of the most bewitching feeauty, was shining upon the extremity of human misery. In less than half a mile from Prato Vecchio, we began to ascend the barren mountains leading to Camaldoli. For a considerable way many of the" hills were water-worn and channelled, suggesting the idea of their being skinned, the bones and muscles being exposed to view. No trees clothed the savage banks, and in many places not a blade of grass. Such a scene of varied desolation is sel dom to be met with, even in the Apennines. camaldoli. f 185 Many huge logs of pine from 80 to upwards of 120 feet in length, lay across the rugged road. Camaldoli at last appeared — a paradise in a desert ! Lofty banks covered with wood rose on each side of the monastery, a building of various ages, ex tensive and picturesque ; behind, enormous aged pines sprung up like columns supporting the hrils above ! On our arrival at the convent, which is of Benedictines, we were received by the prior, who presented us to the superior, a nobleman of courteous and engaging manners. The prior shortly after led us to his study, where we found a tolerable Ubrary. It contained some English books, among which was Buchan's Family Medicine, a work which, I understand, is in great repute in Italy. When Napoleon held the imperial sceptre, this monastery was suppressed with that of Vallombrosa, its possessions sold, and every moveable of value carried off. But on his dethronement several of the monks returned, and, for a time, had many meagre days, tiU they could, as formerly, sell the pine for their support. The revenue which this yields, though not extensive, enables them to maintain about a hundred persons, who cut the wood, and convey it to the bottom of the mountains to be floated down the Arno to Leghorn. Theexpenceand difficulty of transporting these prodigious logs, by the winding roads and rude bridges across ravines, is very great, thirty oxen not being able to drag a 186 camaldoli. single log above seventy or eighty yards a-day up some of the intricate and steep ascents. The worthy prior conducted us in our walks to several delightful spots, and, had we not passed such sterile scenes, we could not possibly have sup posed that a desert was so near. No uncultivated speck appears ; the sides of the hills are clothed with luxuriant foliage, and their heights reserved for pasture ; — shewing a uniform richness from below, and altogether offering a delightful assemblage of verdant lawn, rich wood, and sparkling waters. About two miles above the monastery, among the rocks and pines, is seated the Sagro Eremo, a little town of hermits' cells, each consisting of three small rooms, constructed on the plan of the founder of the hermitage of St Romualdo. ' ' Here, ' ' as a learned author observes, " the unfeeling saint established a rule which anticipates the pains of purgatory." * The dismal wilderness of pine, and the moaning * " No stranger can behold without emotion a number of noble, interesting young men, bound to stand erect, chaunting at choir for eight hours a.day ; their faces pale, their heads shaved, their beards shaggy, their backs raw, their legs swollen, and their feet bare. With this horrible institute, the climate conspires in severity, and seltcts from society the best con stitutions. The sickly novice is cut off in one or two winters, the rest are subject to dropsy, and few arrive at old age."—. Forsyth, p. 88. 6 camaldoli. 187 winds, the forsaken church and mansions, and the recollection of the appalling austerities of'the monks, left a great impression of melancholy on our minds. Not a soul inhabits these gloomy regions except the forester, who at one time imagined he had seen the ghost of St Romualdo.* AVe remained nearly two days with the hospitable monks below, and found our accommodation and en tertainment excellent. The first was a meagre day, but on the second we had better fare, and several strangers who had come to purchase wood were pre sent. The Padre Foresteraio,t and the Prior him self, were seated at the table ; two or three hermits attended as domestics, and never allowed our glasses to be empty. Our entertainment on the meagre day consisted of macaroni dressed with cheese, eggs and mushrooms prepared in various ways, pancake, cauliflower, a dessert of grapes, figs, nuts, a sweet cordial, and coffee. We found in Italy a * We asked this credulous person if the spirit had on the habit of the order, and on his replying in the affirmative, we puzzled him not a little by inquiring whether he thought it posible that there could be the apparition of a flannel gown ; a*id whether he might not as well imagine the ghost of a tobac- cc-box, or a hat, or a pair of worsted stockings, which were all as well entitled to a soul as the Benedictine habit. In this point of view, even a white sheet, the usual accompaniment of ghosts, might be included. ' j A person appointed to entertain strangers. 188 camaldoli. much greater variety of mushrooms than we had ever seen in our own country, and very superior in quality. Many of them grow in the woods, and are certainly of a very suspicious appearance, though we ate them with great relish, and without the slightest inconvenience. On the second day we had an omelet, skate, and fried soles, macaroni, mushrooms, (a favourite dish with the monks,)toast- ed bread rubbed with garlic, anchovies, vegeta bles, a dessert^ and each dish was presented in succession. The Prior and the Padre Foresteraio partook of very little themselves, being almost exclusively oc cupied in attending to their guests. The happy !_aces, the easy manners, and good living of the Ca- maldolese, incline me to believe that the discipline has relaxed since the days of St Romualdo. They strictly attended, however, to their prayers, and even in the middle of the night we were wakened by the convent bell. On leaving these retreats, it is understood that a present should be left in money for the benefit of the poor, and this, of course, should be more than an equivalent for the expence of entertainment. We descended the mountains, for the town of Bibiena, seated on a rising hill, and forming the most interesting feature in the plain below. From thence we travelled to the sanctuary of Franciscan Friars, founded by St Francis. The mountain 10 LA VERNA. 189 ways leading to it were similar to those which we had lately left ; but La Verna itself is very different from Camaldoli in situation and character. Wild and savage nature reigns among the cliffs and pinnacles, hollows and ravines. The monastery, placed on fantastic rocks upon the most aspiring apennine, seems to command the world below. The subUme character of the scene itself, with the vast map of nature spread around, expanding the mind, and turning it to the contemplation of Al mighty power, seems peculiarly adapted to the de votional purposes of those who have chosen it as their abode. Removed as this sanctuary is from human habita tion, we found it surrounded by a crowd of people who had come to attend a fair. A fair on the rocks from whence the devil hurled St Francis ! where, too, the saint received from heaven stigmata corresponding to the five wounds of Christ. This establishment was not suppressed by the French Emperor, although it had considerable pos sessions. The Franciscan monkis a favourite withthe people. In the convent they were settling petty dif- ferences,soothingirritated passions, and recommend ing forgetfulness of grievances. In short, if we may beb'eve all we hear, the lawyers are their only enemies. The superior received us with the ut most kindness, and though at the head of the beg ging monks, was as much of a gentleman as the head of the Camaldolese. He sat with us during 190 MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS. dinner, but only out of compliment ; he tasted nothing, but recommended wine and good living for a journey. We are beggars, he said, and can offer you but little ; that little, however, was an ex cellent dinner of stewed and fried beef, roasted pigeons, macaroni, omelet, and anchovies, good wine, and a dessert. Reflecting on these monastic institutions, one cannot help regretting that so much heart and mind should be lost to the world by misguided piety. Immured within the solitary precincts of the clois ter may be found talents and virtues, that might have adorned and improved society. Why should these be buried in monastic seclusion ? Active em ployment is not more incumbent on us as members of society, than essential to our own individual happiness. It is the great law of our nature ; and the mind, if not engaged in laudable and useful oc cupations, will either sink into hopeless languor, or seek relief in pernicious and degrading pursuits. Monastic institutions, in general, then, may be considered as injurious to society. The order of Saint Bernard, however, is well entitled to respect and gratitude. Along with monastic duties, active usefulness is enjoined. The brethren are obliged daily to descend a league on either side of the mountain, attended by large sagacious dogs, kept for the purpose, in order to discover or aid such as have been overwhelmed by avalanches, or are exhausted by fatigue in passing MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS. 191 the alpine barrier. When arrived at the convent, every traveller, without distinction, may, on ringing a bell, receive as much soup and bread as is suf ficient to recruit his strength, and prepare him for the remainder of his journey. Medical attend ance is also provided gratis. Women are not admitted into the convents, implying that the absence of temptation is the best security of the virtue of these pious fathers ; and it must be con fessed, that, whatever we may think of their gallan try, their prudence at least is deserving of corii- mendation. But how much more heroic and praise worthy is he who stands the brunt of the warfare of life, and contends courageously with the enemy, instead of flying from the field? In every legiti mate view, therefore, of human duties, it would seem, that it should be our endeavour to acquire, by discipline of the mind, those powers which fit us for fulfiUing our duties, and for contributing to the general happiness and welfare of our fellow men. LETTER XVI. LEGHORN. Road to Pisa Tower qf San Miniato. — Pisa Road to- Leghorn. — Remarks on Brilliancy qf Colouring. — Leg-! horn. — Taste for Dancing. — Lazarettos. — Fate qf Dr Smollet's Diploma, — Remarks on Cemeteries. ¦/ 1 he country between Florence and Pisa, by Em- ppli and Portadera, is rich with vineyards and In dian corn. The Arno changes character with the varied ground, gliding, rippling, or murmuring. Our fancy, yieldingto the shifting effects, sometimes skim med with the shadows of the clouds along the vale to dusky woods, hills, and valleys, and entered the sparkling cottage, the castle, or the palace ; some times it followed the illuminated sails upon the river, and threaded with them the intricacies of the scenery. In this delightful manner we reached the peaceful town of Pisa. But before I speak of it I must not forget the Tower of San Miniato, said to have been the property of the family of Na poleon before their settlement in Corsica. It stands upon a rising hill near the little town of Scalla, surrounded by some ruined walls which seem to have been intended for defence. Its lofty situation commands Val d'Arno, bounded by the Apennines, pisa. 198 beyond which we distinguished the peaks of the Madonna rising bright with snow. These moun tains, formidable as they appear, were no defence to effeminate and voluptuous Italy, when opposed to the irruption of the hardy nations of the north, who were attracted by its rich luxuriance and its genial chmate. The Arno flows through Pisa, whose beautiful buildings are reflected in its tranquil bosom. The air, elastic and bland, is free from that overpower ing heat which we occasionally felt in Florence ; for the vicinity of Pisa to the sea gives it the ad vantage of cool refreshing breezes. Though this town cannot boast of the magnifi cence of Florence, yet the Duomo, Baptistry, the Campo Santa, and the leaning Tower, form a cluster of noble and interesting objects ; but simplicity is wanting in them aU, especially in the Baptistry. Some projecting cornice or bold commanding line is required to keep in proper subordination the innumerable details which fritter and destroy its symmetry. The sculptured marble columns, brought by the Pisans from the Holy Land, and the brazen gates, are likewise faulty in that respect, though the workmanship of both is beautiful. Many pictures of considerable merit, chiefly by Andrea del Sarto, Sodomo, and Perino del Vaga, grace the walls of the cathedral; of these the works of Sodomo rank highest, and confer an honour on VOL. I. N 194 pisa. his name. His picture of the Sacrifice of Isaac is delicately conceived, well drawn, and richly co loured. The corridors round the ancient cemetery, ealled the Campo Santa, are filled with various Grecian and Roman sarcophagi, basso relievos, busts, vases, friezes, capitals, &c. many of which are extremely fine. The sarcophagi, especially, are superior to any that we have seen in Italy : and one vase, on which is exquisitely sculptured a Bacchana lian subject, was often studied by the immortal Raphael. Some modern sepulchral works are de licately finished, but a little too profusely orna mented. In the chapel of the cemetery we were shewn a picture by the famous Pisan, Junto, be fore the time of Cimabue ; it is painted upon leather, and is a curious specimen of the infancy of art.The frescoes in the Campo Santa, considering the early period in which they were painted, pos sess considerable merit. In the works of Benozzo Gozzoli we may trace a happy choice of nature, expressed with ease and taste. In those, too, of Bufiklmaco, Giotto, Aritino, and Veneziano, se veral figures are drawn with an ease and freedom, which would not discredit a more refined period Of art. The whole of these are now engraving by Lascino, professor of the Academy, and will certainly be a treat to you in Britain. In those ROAD TO LEGHORN. 1^5 engravings you may discover many parts, which ancient and modern masters have not scrupled to pass for their own inventions. In the Academy della Bella Arte we saw little to admire, either of ancient or modern art. The students were copying wretched prints; they would certainly have been better employed, had they been studying in the Campo Santa. From Pisa to Leghorn the country stiU con tinues under corn and vine cultivation, the latter forming, as in Val d'Arno, the divisions of the fields. Part of the country, however, stiU requires improvement. Though the plain is monotonous, the lover of scenery may still discover something to admire. The peasantry and children, busily em ployed with the riches of the harvest, were seen in groupes tearing off the withered leaves from the Indian corn, while others were spreading the golden treasure upon the various thrashing floors before their cottages. The brilliancy of the maize subdued the other hues of nature, and suggested hints of splen did harmony, shewing that colour, when well ar ranged, is often more agreeable to the eye than when aerial tones prevail. The full and gem-like brilliancy of Italian landscape, in the autumnal season, must captivate the dullest eye. Oiir road was bordered with festoons of vine, rich with clustering grapes. Under this volup tuous drapery the mendicants would take their sta- 196 LEGHORN. — TASTE FOR DANCING. tions ; yet, strange to say ! would leave the fruit untouched. On arriving here, the contrast between Leg horn and tranquil Pisa was very striking. Every where is seeri bustling and active trade : the streets are filled with Turks, Greeks, and Jews ; and these, with their varied costumes, mingle in the jostling crowd of speculators ; the clamorous, discordant sounds, and yelling cries, confounding bur sense of hearing. Awnings project into the streets, with tables and seats for business or refresh ment.. In the evenings, the native fair accompa ny the men to coffee-houses, which are elegantly lighted, and from the street might be taken for assembly rooms. Art does not exist in Leghorn, save in the alabasters in the Via Grande, the en chained figures at the harbour, or the tombs of the Campo Santa. The Theatre is elegant, and the acting toler able. Opera dancing attracts the natives most, but I cannot say that their taste is pure. To them elegance has not such charms as meretricious ac tion. Whirling on one leg at right angles with the body, and stopping suddenly on the toe, calls forth more applause than easy attitude or graceful motion. I know not whether dancing can, to any degree, interest the mind, but surely it does not touch the finer feelings of the heart. To enjoy it, we must LAZARETTOS. 197 be in health and spirits ; but music, soft, entranc ing music ! sooths the hour of sadness, lightens the pressure of distress, and prepares the mind to encounter severer trials, or greater pain. Who that has heard your own " breathing flute" bring, as it were, the voice of angels from afar, and " dis solve the listener into ecstasies," can deny the ma gic power of music ? In the Lazarettos here every precaution is ta ken to prevent contagion, especially by touch. In the Parlatorio, those in quarantine may see their friends, or converse on business ; but to prevent all contact, or any thing being transferred from one party to another, the room is divided in the middle, by a passage five or six feet wide, and in this di vision guards are always placed. Few situations are without their interest. In the Parlatorio may be seen a father, who may have been separated from his family many a tedious year, yet prevented from clasping his wife and children to his bosom ; brothers kept aloof from their sisters, and lovers from each other. Persons in quarantine must be extremely eareful not to come in contact ; otherwise the one party, however short his term of quarantine might have been, must remain till the release of the other, whatever may have been his destined period of con finement. We happened once to see an instance of the vigilance of the Guardiana : A person care- 198 DR SMOLLET's DIPLOMA. lessly approached within an inch of a gentleman who had lately entered. Guarda ! was called as loud as possible, and Jesu Maria ! Sacro Christo ! Diavolo ! Bestia ! ran over his wicked tongue as quick as lightning, to the terror and dismay of the poor offender. Money from persons in quarantine must be passed through Water, and their letters are taken with tongs, and fumigated before delivery. Yet, notwithstanding all the precaution used, it is possible that disease may be communicated ; and knowing the fatal effects of touch, I must confess I felt some apprehension, while near a person who had lately recovered from the plague, lest some little ac tive insect might pounce from him upon me. Al though a physician is appointed to the Lazaretto, an invaUd has little chance of proper medical as sistance. The doctor is not allowed to feel his pulse, unless he chuses to be confined till his pa tient obtain his freedom. While speatking of physicians, I ttay inform you, that a gentleman, on visiting a lady here the other day, saw, among some papers on her table, the diploma granted to Dr Smollet by the University of Aberdeen. Wishing to obtain the curious document, he wait ed on the lady a second time, ' but, upon inquiry, he 'discovered that she had cut it down for thread jiaper. In the Campo Santa, or British burial ground, we saw the sepulchre of this celebrated character ; MR HORNER. CEMETERIES. 199 and surely, if we may estimate the respect or ve neration paid to his memory by the innumerable names inscribed upon the marble, Tobias SmoUet has had an ample share ; not a single part is left uncovered by the various strangers who have vi sited this beautiful, yet melancholy field of tombs. Amongst these, we went to visit the grave which contained the remains of Francis Horner, the brightest ornament of our country. To this great man I could wish to pay my tribute of admiration and of grief. Let that tribute be a tear. The voice of private sorrow could scarcely be heard amidst the public lamentation ; and on my part, it were, indeed, a vain and presumptuous attempt, to describe that high inteUectual and moral excel lence, which the eloquent of all parties have emu- lously eulogized, and which, while it shed unri- vaUed brilliance on his public career, illumined and gladdened his social and domestic circles.* Comparing the various cemeteries, which we have seen abroad, with those of our own country, I cannot help regretting, that, in this improving age, our pubUc burial grounds have been so much ne- • The affectionate and unwearied attention, the sympathy and lingering hope, with which Mr Leonard Horner watched over his brother, not only excited the admiration 6f his coun trymen who witnessed it, but deeply interested the feelings even of the Italians. 200 CEMETERIES. glected. These abodes of the dead may teach an important moral lesson to the living. A field seems thus to be left open, which taste may fairly occu py with advantage, and where it may heighten, di rect, and purify the emotions which such scenes are fitted to inspire. At present, the prevailing sentiment which they excite is one almost of dis gust. Wild weeds of the rankest growth incumber the graves, where they are allowed to rot, as if in emulation of the corruption which they cover. The pleasing and tender melancholy, which natu rally breathes from such hallowed ground, is put to flight by the unsightly rubbish which obstructs the stranger's approach to the more conspicuous monuments, and thus consigns to premature obli vion those names which they can, at best, but a few short years record. Such is the state of the church-yards in most of our towns and cities. In the country they are still worse. There ani mals of every kind are sometimes allowed to feed upon the graves. I am not disposed to abridge the privileges of the clergyman : Let him be al lowed, if he pleases, to cut his crop of hay annu ally from the sod. I wish him every good that the dead or the living can bestow, but I wish also, with pious reverence, that the bones of our fore fathers be suffered to rest in peace. The bury. ing grounds abroad, with few exceptions, are clean, elegant, and tasteful, the fit abode of the CEMETERIES. 201 dead, and pregnant with instruction to the liv ing.* The deplorable state of ours seems to have arisen rather from want of thought, than from any intentional neglect : for where shall we find a people who reverence their ancestry more than the Scotch, or have a greater pride in recalling their memory ? From this circumstance, I venture to hint at an improvement, which, if not adopted, cannot at least be taken amiss. The annexed plate may suggest some improvement, or it may serve to give an idea of the disposition of the tombs, and the decoration suited to the place. In populous and wealthy, cities, the plan can easily be adopted, and to almost every situation will, in some degree, apply. The church-yard is supposed * Even the Turkish burying grounds are more attended to than ours. They are generally places of favourite resort. The principal promenade in the evening for the inhabitants of Pera, (the chief appendage to Constantinople,) is a very extensive cemetery, which slopes to the harbour, and is planted with no ble cypresses, (the funereal tree,) and thickly set in many places with Turkish tombs. The opulent Turks have their graves railed in, and often a building over them, in some of which lights are kept constantly burning. The inscription on the head stones is usually a sentence ol the Coran inscribed in characters of gold, especially in the cemeteries about Con stantinople. The Turks, too, like the Wcl.h, adorn the graves of their friends often by planting some flou.rs about or upon them, sometimes the myrtle, at other times the amaryllis. 202 CEMETERIES. to be surrounded, in part or in whole, with a lofty covered arched way, surrounded with sarcophagi, tablets, and slabs for receiving inscriptions, re cording the names and virtues of the deceased, * and conveying to the heart of the beholder the most impressive lessons of morality and religion, t Here, too, the most delicate and tender sentiments might be excited, divested of every unpleasing concomitant. Here the dead, who afforded us example while living, might still read to us im pressive lessons. The choice passages of the sacred writings might be extracted for our use : here if any where they would lead us beyond that narrow bound which circumscribes mortality. What a powerful auxiliary to the labours of the divine! This would impress his lessons on the heart, and * In the church-yard at Glencorse, near Edinburgh, I have observed a tomb'stone, erected by a grateful master to hi_ faithful servant; thisVcannot but have a good moral tendency! besides doing infinite honour to the'heart of him who placed it there. f Few cities possess so favourable situationsfor elegant cemeteries as our northern metropolis. Such an arched way as Th'ave described,- enclosing an extensive square on the Calton Hill, where the highest part of the ground should be reserved -for the mausoleums of the great, would be not only one of the finest ornaments of that beautiful promenade, but -one of the most interesting features in a town, which has been not undeservedly styled the modern Athens. 1 DEPARTURE FROM LEGHORN. 203 send them forth as our pilots, among the rocks and quicksands of life. * From the roof of the house of our inestimable friend Mr Macbean.t with whom we live, we have a distant view of the petty empire of Napoleon, and, if we can procure a proper vessel, we shall depart for thence without delay. On our return, we shaU take the road by Lucca and Pistoja to Florence, and, with as much dispatch as possible, proceed to Rome. * I cannot resist mentioning a circumstance which strong ly marks the rapacity of the French commander, immediate ly previous to their expulsion from this part of Italy. The French general was in treaty with a Jew for the sale of the grave stones at Lido near "Venice, and upon the promise afford ed by the negociation, some had been torn up and carried off, and others were lying in various directions, pushed from their bases, and prepared to be transported. The change, however, of political sovereignty, though in other respects injurious to Venice, protected the sanctity of those asylums of the dead. + I must not omit this opportunity of expressing how much we are indebted to the uncommon attention and kindness of Mr Macbean, brother to _Eneas Macbean, Esq. Writer to the Sig net, in Edinburgh. When, after our return, my accomplished and excellent friend Mr D. lay indisposed, we had the com mand of his whole house, to the utter exclusion of every per son but his own household. LETTER XVII. ELBA. Coast of Italy from Leghorn to Populonia.— Fishing of An chovies Elba. — Palace qf Napoleon. — Napoleon. — His Improvements and Popularity Revenue of Elba.— Poli tical Importance.— Appearance of the Country. — Game.— Noxious Animals. vv e had no sooner decided on a visit to Elba, and made a few arrangements for that purpose, than we found a passage in a boat which belonged to the island, and immediately embarked. Our voy age, of sixty miles, occupied two days, during which we sailed along the coast of Italy, as far as Populonia, and the promontory of Piembino. The coast is barren and uncultivated ; the interior mountainous, and covered with brushwood ; with one or two distant towers about half way up the mountains. Between the rocky headlands of Mount Nero and Piembino is a long sweep of low sandy beach, with three or four lonely and di minutive castles, intended as a check upon the pira tical incursions of the Corsairs of Tunis and Al giers ; who, ever since the dominion of the Crescent was established in Africa, have infested the shores of the Mediterranean. The islands of Gorgona, Capraia, Corsica, Elba, and some high insulated ARRIVAL AT ELBA. 205 rocks, rose above the horizon in distant perspec tive towards the west and south. Between these and the shores of Italy, in the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean, are fished multitudes of the finest anchovies. The shoal of these fish lies about six feet below the surface. The fishing is preca rious ; one boat may catch two thousand weight in anight, while others, in the same station, do not find a single fish. They are salted along the coast; those of Gorgona being the most esteemed. In the evening of the second day, a little after night- faU, we found ourselves under the batteries of Porto Ferrajo. The tall light-house on Fort Stella served to discover to us the situation of the palace of Napoleon, now the house of the governor ; but, except the challenge of the centinel from an old dismantled tower, and the regular cadence of our oars, not a sound was to be heard in this famous harbour, where the Turks, the French, and Eng lish, in their numerous fleets, had so often car ried terror, or fraternity, or protection. The gates were shut when we reached the La zaretto. Our arrival was notified to the gover nor, and on an examination of our bill of health, (a precaution as invariable as necessary in all the Christian states of the Mediterranean,) an order was issued for our admittance. A few galliots and feluccas were anchored along the quays, but it was evident that the commerce of Elba must be very 206 PALACE OP NAPOLEON inconsiderable. We were conducted to a tolerable inn, where we found a supper and beds, — and a; knavish landlord. Next morning, we paid our respects to, GeneJflJ Count Strasaldo, the governor, to whom w? had brought a letter of introduction. The old general received us with the greatest affability, and conducted us through his. house and gar den ; pointing out whatever he thought might in terest us in both,: as connected with Napoleon's residence in Elba. The palace is a plain house of two stories with wings, situate on the ridge above the town, between the forts of Falcone and Stella, which crown two rocks somewhat higher, and at a short distance from each other. It commands to wards the south a fine view of the town, harbour, and mountains, and on the north of Piembino, the coast of Italy as far as the mountains of Lucca, and the islands to the west. Not a boat can stir without being observed. The whole of this ridge, which is a rocky promontory or peninsula, project ing into the bay, is without a bush, if we except a fig tree in the small garden of the palace. The houses and the rock, (for it is nearly destitute of herbage,) the bastions, and flanking walls of the fortifications, beingall white, are not a little distress ing to the eyes, and the heat in summer would be almost insupportable, did not the sea breeze tem per and freshen the air. But we agree with heat, NAPOLEON. 207 and in the month of September it is here com paratively moderate. You will naturally expect a variety of particulars relative to Napoleon's habits, plans, and projects in his diminutive empire. This, at least, was to us an interesting subject for inquiry, and perhaps the information which we picked up may not be un interesting to you. His restless activity attended him every where. On his passage, he had design ed a national flag, for his imperial island, and ac tuaUy had it made by the saUors of the frigate which brought him to Elba ; and before he set foot on shore, he had it hoisted on the fort, and saluted by the ships, as they came to anchor in the roads. His mode of life was peculiar. He rose at two in the morning and studied tUl daylight, being par ticularly fond of French history and Egyptian re searches. At daylight he went out on foot, or on horseback, whatever the weather, to superintend his public roads, or the building of iis country house at Saint Martino, about three nules from the town. At nine he returned to breakfast, which consisted of a dish or two of meat, of which he eat sparingly, and various kinds of wine, of all of which he tasted. A cup of coffee followed. He then retired to bed, and slept two hours ; after which he remained in his cabinet till the evening, (in summer,) receiving strangers, directing his government, giving audi- 208 NAPOLEON. ences on business, arranging his plans, and latterly, perhaps, preparing those spirited proclamations which he issued on his landing in France. In the evening, • attended by Bertrand or Drou- et, he took an airing to Saint Martino or Longone, with more than his usual state, and always in his carriage. He dined at eight, and never without company. Persons of distinction he placed beside him ; but at the opposite side of the table there was left an open space. He eat rapidly of a great variety of dishes, calling for them promptly as he wanted them: a few glasses of French wine, swallowed hastily, concluded his dinner ; and a dish of coffee was the signal for rising from the table, which all were expected to obey, whether they had dined or not. Half an hour sufficed for this meal. If ladies were at table, he would generally help them himself, and sometimes, when gay, was full of compliment to all around. When thoughtful, he said nothing, and nobody presumed to address him. His drawing- room after dinner was usually the little garden behind the palace, where he spent the rest of the evening in conversation with his friends. He retired at eleven, but his mother, and his sister Pauline, still remained till the company separated. On Sunday he went regularly at twelve o'clock to mass, where all the authorities were expected to attend ; the mass was celebrated in the palace. A levee followed, when he addressed himself in NAPOLEON. — IMPROVEMENTS. 209 order to each person round the circle. When officers attended with their colonel, it was his prac tice to inquire what was their rank, and where they had served, and to ask the explanation and use of some military manoeuvre. If pleased, he passed on ; if not satisfied, he sometimes expressed his opinion, rather candidly than courteously, to the command ing officer present. He noticed every thing, and always asked the reason of whatever he remarked as additional or wanting in uniform or accoutre ments. His eye was every where ; and military gentlemen were often much more comfortable af ter this catechism than before it. The perche, or why, was always on his tongue. When he arrived in Elba, he was to the last de gree unpopular. The visitations of the French had left lasting memorials among the suffering in habitants ; but his address and liberality soon ope rated a change. He began instantly to alter and improve ; to make roads, and to raise buildings. In a few weeks, a theatre was erected for the evening's amusement of the Elbese ; an old church was converted into a spacious barrack ; an easy carriage road was made into the town, and con ducted by the best level towards the opposite ex tremities of the island ; others were lined and level led. Five thousand men were constantly employed at six Pauls, or about three shiUings a-day, in these various undertakings ; and the peasantry witnessed vol. i. o 210 IMPROVEMENTS BY NAPOLEON. suddenly the effect of improvements, which, till then, perhaps, they had scarcely imagined. The influx of foreigners, attracted by curiosity to see the individual, who had been unceasingly present to the hopes and fears of almost every man in Europe, during by far the most eventful period of its history, brought money and occupation to the islanders. They seemed to receive a new exist ence, and for the first time, perhaps, to regard themselves as holding an ascertained place in the map of the world ; a place not only comparatively, but actually distinguished. Within nine months, 867 EngUsh alone had been presented to Napo leon. Besides, this was only a foretaste of the blessings in store ; — long years of prosperity, asto nishing improvements, an imperial revenue, actual ly overflowing into the pocket of every peasant, peace with the world, a national flag respected, an independent and commercial state. Can any one conceive, as the'effect of all this, any thing short of the strongest attachment to the man, whose ap pearance among them was working such a change ? Add to this his insinuating address. Napoleon, — who had bowed with his single arm the stubborn necks of emperors, and shaken the foundations of the oldest European thrones, that seemed to have existed but by his licence, — talking unattended, and familiarly, with any common peasant whom he met with in his walks, interesting himself in his condi- POPULARITY OP NAPOLEON. 211 tion, listening to his story, hearing, and, when possi ble, redressing his complaints, — was calculated to make an irresistible impression ; and he has done so. The populace are said to have wept when he left their island, from the regard to his safety. Had he sufficiently regarded his own, he would not have given them occasion for tears. It was his policy, latterly, to confine his employ ment to natives of the island ; these are, of course, attached to him by gratitude. Much of their more general regard is referable, doubtless, to motives of interest and expectation ; and, for the Tuscan go vernment, the way to remove it, is, to aid the natives in those improvements which had been begun under Napoleon, and to give the utmost encouragement to commerce ; to take, in short, a very warm and pa rental interest in the prosperity of Elba. The next step will be, to give occupation to those em ployed by Buonaparte, whom they regarded as their sovereign. In serving him, they obeyed that legi timate authority, which the powers of Europe had established over them. I am inclined to think, that the Tuscan government will be wise in this respect; unfortunately, their exhausted and slender resources cripple their power, how much soever they may be disposed to promote the improvement of the island. The revenue from Elba is, however, consider able, though accounts differ as to the expence of 212 REVENUE OF ELBA. the insular government. The salary of the gover nor is 12,000 livres. The present military esta blishment amounts only to 1200 soldiers, 400 of whom are natives. The criminal jurisdiction is appointed by the grand duke, who bears the expence. The civil magistracy are annually chosen by lot. The gon- faloniere, or first magistrate, is taken from that class who are rated, in the public valuation roll, at three Pauls yearly of tribute to the sovereign. Of this class there may be about sixty. The four Anzeani are chosen also by lot from the second class, who stand assessed at one livre or two Pauls. These superintend the police of the island, and the duty of one Paul per barrel on all exported wine defrays the expence of this establishment. Besides this, the government has the monopoly of salt and of metals. About 30,000 bags of salt, each 200 libs., are annually made, and used or ex ported. That which is exported to Italy, sells for ten Pauls, or about five shillings a sack, but the natives have it at the half of that sum. The value of the iron mines at Rio I could not ascertain ; but between 220 and 260 men are continually em ployed in mining, and 22 vessels, from 40 to 100 tons each, in exporting an ore which yields of pure metal at least 60 per cent. The return from this source must be considerable. Next, the right of fishing the tunny is leased at an annual rent of 36,000 livres. POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 213 Notwithstanding this, I have been told, though I cannot believe it, that the expence exceeds the revenue by 70,000 livres. Would the Grand Duke of Tuscany, with an impoverished treasury, retain this island at such an expence ? This, to be sure, is no argument to ambition. Ask England. The Grand Duke would still less willingly see it in the hands of any other power. It is the key of Italy on the west ; the whole Italian coasting trade must pass through the channel of Piombino. In the hands of a naval power, it would command the commerce and marine of Italy. The natives wonder that England should not have reserved it for herself. Such a dependence would have com pensated to them the loss of Napoleon. Next to this, a trade with England, especially in wine, is an object which some of the chief proprietors are at pre sent endeavouring to establish. On this subject, and the progress of agriculture, the improvement and capacities of the island, we had much information from two gentlemen of the name of Fossi, of the most respectable famUy of the Porto Ferajo. A day or two after our arrival, we made an excursion with one of these gentlemen to the western extremity of the island. The information which we obtained in this little tour may be thus detailed. The island presents, at a distance, ranges of high mountains, either covered with small brushwood, or stony and barren. Among these, however, there 214 APPEARANCE OF THE COUNTRY. is a lower range of hiUs more or less cultivated with numerous little flat vaUeys, rich in vineyards and various fruits. These retired valleys and little plains are all divided and cultivated like orchards. From the practice of burning for pasture, the wood and shrubbery upon the hills is in general small, except where the suggera or cork tree abounds. The rest consists of evergreen oak, arbutus, covered at this season with its vermillion fruit, wild myrtle in flower, lentanello, heath higher than our tallest broom, and a plant called mucchia, which covers the most barren spots, delighting to grow among stones and sandy soil, and diffusing, to a considerable distance round, an odour somewhat simUar to that of nutmegs. Multitudes of sweet smelling herbs perfume the air ; mint, lavender, and thyme, and many other aromatic herbs and shrubs, to which a botanist would find a name, are scattered with profusion over every hill and thicket. The sea breeze wafts over the island the united fragrance of this " wilderness of sweets : " it was at first delightful, and we often lingered a little to enjoy it ; it soon, however, became less pleasing, and at length almost overpowering. Among the scented mucchia, the redJegged, or Barbary partridge, is found, but not very abundantly, except near Campo and St Ilario, on the south west extremity. Game, indeed, is not in plenty, and chiefly consists of birds of. passage from other GAME. NOXIOUS ANIMALS. 215 countries. The beccafico, pigeons, turtles, and quails, are seen only in their transit to the op posite continents. A species of small hare is the only quadruped of game kind. Among ruined walls, and on the bare stony mountains, we meet with the scorpion and tarantula. The scorpion is of a small species, and poisonous only in October. The tarantula, a large insect of the spider kind, is very venomous ; the instan taneous effect is a total loss of strength ; the antidote is well known to the apothecaries, but I could not learn its name. After a long search, we found two of them in their holes ; one of them was quite covered with clusters of young, and bit and jumped about furiously. The hole was about one inch and a half wide at the mouth, and six or seven inches deep. It is made in the bare red earth near the stony tops of the mountains. The cure of the bite of the tarantula by music and dancing is quite fabulous. Besides these, we saw on three oc casions a pretty large sort of serpent. I mea sured one, which was about four feet in length, but it is doubted whether they are venomous. The progress of cultivation seems, however, to be fast abridging the dominion of such creatures. Buty that I may not exhaust your patience, I shall reserve my observations on the agricultural im provement in this island for my next letter. LETTER XVIII. ELBA. Agriculture— Vineyards. — Terms qf Tenure.— Want of Grain Fruit Trees. — Wines Malaria. — Count Stra- saldo.—Fossi Family. 1 he agriculture of Elba received almost its first impulse from the English in 1792. The new de mand for agricultural products required greater exertions, and these were repaid by the necessary supply. The French continued the system. All the houses which now enliven the face of the country have been built since the year 1792 ; before that period, nothing but mud cottages were to be seen. The vines are rapidly displacing the brushwood covering of the mountains, and, in a short time, may leave the richer valleys forthe culture of grain. Elba seems amazingly adapted for the vine. The heat of the sun, the variety of soil, mountains which afford, by their elevation, all the necessary degrees of temperature, and actual experience, warrant the assertion. Already, the annual produce may be estimated at 60,000 casks of the best quality, con taining about 10 gallons each, with about 500,000 VINEYARDS. 217 barrels of the common wine. The best wines are the Bianillo and Aleatico, red; the Muscat, both red and white ; the Riminese, white. A cham pagne, of superior flavour, is made of the Procani- co grape, and of the Muscat before it is dried in the sun, which is necessary previous to the manufacture of the Muscat wine. We have drunk Aleatico equal to the best Constantia. We men tioned our doubt of its keeping sound for any length of time, and were told, that the common wine had been sent to Holland, had been return ed, and again sent back, and at the end of eighteen months seemed a different and superior wine, and this without brandy. The wine called Bischillato has been exported to America. Proprietors are now beginning to manufacture with a degree of care in the choice and selection of the grapes, which promises a variety of very excellent wines, if the encouragement of a market can be found. This may become, in a few years, a considerable source of commercial and agricultural profit. The export is chiefly confined at present to Genoa, Civita Vecchia, and Leghorn. They begin to cultivate their new vineyards in December, and continue their labour through Ja nuary and February. The population, however, is at present inadequate, and about seven hundred peasants go annually in the end of September from Lucca to assist in the vintage and the cul- 218 VINEYARDS. ture chiefly of vines. These peasants return to Lucca on the first of May. Their hire is a cer tain quantity of coarse bread, and a little wine daily, with their bed, implements, and twenty-five Pauls, or about twelve shillings a month. The Elbese are better fed ; each labourer receives about two Pauls a day ; two anchovies at breakfast ; at dinner, two anchovies, or stock fish with beef soup ; and again in the evening two anchovies, as at breakfast, and one bottle of common wine. They bring their own bread, and furnish their own implements, and work from daylight till twenty minutes after sunset. Eight men, thus fed, wiU clear and plant in a week un cento di vigna, containing six hundred vine plants. The vineyard is in its perfection in the fifth year, when, if the season be tolerable, and the soil good, a cento of vines will produce, at an average, from twelve to fourteen barrels, worth, according to its quality, from ten to fifteen Pauls ; " Fiuvecchia la vile, piu forte il vino;" — " the older the grape, the the richer wine," is the max im ; and at Procchio, the vines are of one hundred and fifty years growth. The best hills front to the sun ; red stony ground being always the most suitable. In the valleys, the produce is one half greater ; but the wine will not keep. At Cam po, for example, the common wine fails off in nine months. The Muscato grape is exposed twenty days to the sun, after it has been gathered TERMS OF TENURE. 219 bunch by bunch. For want of hands, the fine southern district from CapoUveri to Acona, which is wholly composed of the red stony soil, so fa vourable for the vine, is still untouched. The land is leased out to the peasants for a pro portion of the produce ; a half, a fourth, or a fifth, according to the quality of the soil. A fifth seems to be the more frequent proportion, and hence the tenants who hold farms of this extent are called quintazoU. By a law of Leopold's, the tenant cannot commence the vintage without the land lord's permission ; the value of the landlord's part, and the quaUty of the wine, depending materiaUy on the time of gathering. One would think, how ever, that the tenant's interest would be a sufficient security ; yet experience of the contraiy has most probably dictated the law : for Leopold was a truly patriotic prince, the avowed enemy of unneces sary restraints, and rather faulty, perhaps, in over turning too suddenly ancient customs and laws. The perfection of agriculture in this island would be, to confine the vineyards to the moun tains, and cultivate grain in the valleys and plains. The proprietors are all sensible of this, and are clearing the brushwood rapidly away. The want of grain is felt by eveiy one. Tlie inhabitants con sume a great deal of bread-corn : as they raise upon the island only a two months supply, — to meet the demand, from four to five thousand sacks, of 220 WANT OF GRAIN. FRUIT TREES. one hundred and seventy pounds each, are annually imported ; each pound contains twelve ounces, and the sack costs to the importer about twenty shil lings sterling, or twenty-six Pauls. It is brought from the Maremma of Piombino, Leghorn, and the Black Sea, and is sold by the importer to the consumer at twenty-five shillings a sack. The whole value of their wine does little more at pre sent than supply them with bread ; and the fol lowing vintage is generally pledged in the spring by the peasantry for corn. The island will proba bly ere long nearly supply itself; at least its sup plies of wine will be much greater, and the growth of grain much nearer to the amount of the annual consumption. The lower grounds abound with large fig trees of different kinds, affording a succession for several months. Near Rio and Longone, where they are most numerous, we observed many large white washed ovens for drying the fruit. The figs are gathered in the heat of the day, dried till the evening, put into the oven after it has been heated and swept, to the depth of four inches, upon little sieves made of twigs, and of an oval form. One night, or at most two, are sufficient ; they are then barrelled up for winter use. Besides these, they have several kinds of apples, and particularly the sort well known in France, if not in England, and eaten, like the medlar, when apparently rotten ; and FRUIT TREES. — MINES. 221 in some places the pomegranate. Their grapes are delicious ; we have almost lived upon them, and bread, and almonds. Every peasant offers them as you pass his vineyard. At this season, almost every man you meet has a large bunch of grapes in one hand, and a crust in the other. Of ten, in our country excursions, we made our re pasts in the same manner. Two plants flourish luxuriantly in Elba, which are no where else to be found growing wfld in the same latitude. The one is Opuntia, or Fico dTndia, called at Gibraltar and in England the prickly pear ; it has a very thick fleshy leaf, covered with spines ; one leaf grows out of another, and round the edge of the highest leaves the fruit is attached. They should be plucked at sunrise, or it becomes less easy to de tach them from the plants. The sweet is rather insipid. The other plant, which is seen in vast abundance at Longone, is the aloe, which is said to blossom in England once in a century. The flower stalk is about twenty feet high, covered with flowers. We were too late for this sight, as a high wind had destroyed most of the blossoms, and the remainder were already in seed. At the mineral wealth of Elba I have already hinted, when mentioning the revenue ; to this, particularly its iron, it is indebted for its chief celebrity in ancient and in modern times. Virgil, in his tenth book of the Mneid, calls it " Insula 222 MINES. inexhaustis chalybum generosa metallis." The side of a high hill is cut down, wholly composed of the richest iron ore. The appearance of this hill at a distance is red as freestone ; when you walk over the refuse, it glitters as if you were treading on myriads of brilliants. The Romans had worked it, and lately a gallery was discovered, with many of their mining implements, blistered and misha- pen with rust. Nothing could exceed the hospitality of the di rectors of the mines. It was impossible, in civility, to refuse their pressing invitations to partake of the exquisite fruit and wine, which each of them had provided. They were not to be denied ; so we did our best, with good wiU and a hearty appetite, to please all. I must preserve the names of Signor Golandi the administrator, whose handsome family of daugh ters were not easily overlooked : (indeed, the wo men of Upper Rio, and generally throughout the island, possess a considerable share of good figure and good looks; all rather embonpoint;) Signor Bobilier the accountant, a man of reading and in formation, with a well selected little library; and Signor Cabone Garbajlia, who could never be satisfied that he had shewn sufficient kindness. They are all fond of news, inquisitive about Eng land, and possessing, with regard to it, information which surprised me. MALARIA. 223 The chief workmen receive only one livre, six teen sous, per day. They are simply miners. None of the ore is smelted here, but is exported for that purpose to Genoa, Naples, Folonica, Cecina, and other places, where charcoal abounds on the coast of Italy. Marquesate, eanite, and many curious minerals, are found about the mines ; yellow ochre is prepared in quantities for paint. In ancient times, as well as at present, the ore seems to have been always carried to other places to be melted. There are, however, in opposition to this fact, con siderable remains of the refuse or scoriae of the furnace, near an extensive set of vaults, and foun dations of unknown antiquity, opposite to Porto Ferajo. Celtenso, a Gothic writer, who visited Elba in the sixth century, asserts that, in his time, the ore was purified in the island. At present, there is too little wood for that purpose ; and the less of woodland, the better for Elba. One would imagine, that in a country abounding, as this does, with almost every useful or elegant pro duction, with charming scenery, and a delightful cli mate, strangers would be anxioustoselectaresidence ; and so, perhaps, they may, when certain changes have been made, though being but a small island, it pleases better for a short visit, than a lengthened stay. Besides this, however, there is one serious objection, the prevalence of malaria for four months in the year, from June till October. It is chiefly 224 MALARIA. to be dreaded in low marshy situations, where there is stagnant water, and decayed vegetation. The neighbourhood of the salt pits is greatly prejudi cial, not as they say from the salt pits actually in use, but from those which are unemployed, and the wet grounds and ditches adjoining to them. Few places are more noxious than the country between Porto Ferajo and the mountains. During the dangerous season, all the peasantry flock in on their little horses, as we have often seen, with their wives and families to sleep in the city. A single night in the country would be followed by a ter tian, or a quartan ague. At the village of Pila di Campo, in another part of the island, where the land is low and flat, though not in the least marshy, our guide was, in a single night, seized with fever and ague, which hung by him for eleven months, aud deprived him of the use of one of his ears. Unlucky indeed is the man, who, at this season, fails to arrive before night-fall at some safe village. These, as Rio St Ilario Pierro, St Marcian Capolivero, and Poggio, are purposely built high upon the mountain, to ensure their exemption from this dreaded malady. It is occasioned by the carbonic acid gas, which rises in dense fumes after sunset from the rank vegetation and stagnant water, and is very perceptible to the smell. The want of drain ing, and clean and wholesome cultivation, is the chief cause. The government, to whom the COUNT STRASALDO. 225 salt pits belong, seems quite inexcusable, in per mitting any of the pits to remain foul and neglect ed, when the effect is so pernicious to the health of the inhabitants. But the government is as yet too recent to have done all, and every one admits, that the Grand Duke is a most amiable and excel lent man. They do not say so much of all his ministers ; yet he could not have chosen a better governor for Elba than the Count Strasaldo, whose conduct and countenance are alike benign. He is much liked, for his maxims of government are wise and moderate : a man of 75 is not likely to be fiery and intolerant ; years and experience have subdued his passions, and an age so pregnant with change has taught him to regard, with liberal allowance, acts of ancient opposition. In fact, in the first proclama* tion which he issued on his arrival, he declared his respect for freedom of opinion, when unattended by acts of hostihty to the government. Some of those who were the most attached friends of Napo leon he respects, countenances, and recommends to public employment. I never saw a man who bore in his countenance the legible stamp of more goodness. He returned our visit two days after our arrival, gave us a constant invitation to the evening conversaziones at his house, and would have furnished us, had we needed them, with let- VOL. I. p 226 FOSSI FAMILY. ters of introduction, that would have ensured us a welcome reception from the best families in every part of the island. The kindness of Mr Fossi rendered that unne cessary. That family had sacrificed almost their whole fortune in their early resistance to the French. Since 1792, it has risen again to af fluence. Mr Fossi's brother is an officer in the English service, and gave us the introduc tion to which we were indebted for such mark ed attentions. His father was a barrister, a man of genius and learning, and the friend of Metas- tasio. His uncle, Pandolfo Barberi, is the present prior of St Lorenzo in Florence. From both the brothers I have had much, and, I believe, accurate information. They are both equally anxious to pro mote the trade of the country, especially with Eng<- land, in the article of wine; and are, at present, em ploying themselves in ascertaining to what perfec tion, as an article of commerce, the wine of Elba can be brought. LETTER XIX. Quarry of White Marble. — Napoleon's Country House at San Martino. — Lucera — Volterrajo — Monte Cristo — S_ Pierro and llario. — Granite Pillars at Secheta Pianaso, — •Poggio. — Waterspouts. — Napoleon's Departure. — Sketch by Napoleon. — Napoleon believedto be in England. — Tunny Fishery. — Variety of Fish. — Magnetic Mountain. —Elbese Sailors — Populonia — History qf Elba. A. quarry of white marble, said to rival that of Carrara, has lately been purchased by the Fossis from the government ; it is close to Longone, and was discovered by Bonaparte. Out of it a sta tue of himself was sculptured, and the beautiful urns, vases, and baths, which are still to be seen at bis country house of San Martino. We accompa nied Mr Fossi to see it ; it is plain, with windows in front, and two stories high. The entrance hall is large, and in the Egyptian taste ; on this floor there are five other apartments, the servants were lodged below. In front, and still lower, was a kitchen and a complete set of offices ; on the top of which, level with the- under story of his own dwel ling-house, was a broad flat terrace, commanding* through a valley filled with vines, a distant view of the harbour and bason of Porto Ferajo ; — the city projecting into the sea, which appears like a fine lake surrounded by mountains. 228 LUCERA. VOLTERRAJO. We saw several ravens on the neighbouring hills, which, when other provisions fail, will condescend to a fig, and with their characteristic sagacity, they always select the best. In our way back, we took a circuit along the mountains, to see the remains of the old Roman fortress of Lucera, which caps the narrow summit of one of them to the south of Porto Ferajo, and which, as well as that of Volter- rajo on a conical mountain to the east, is a con spicuous feature in the landscape from the capital of Elba. Both were furiously besieged by Barba rossa in 1543, when he united with the French in their attack on Savoy. Lucera fell, and was blown up by the Turks. Volterrajo maintained a suc cessful resistance ; but the slaughter of the natives was such, that Giacomo Appiani, Prince of Piom- bino, to whom Elba belonged, was obliged to pro cure the departure of the Turks by the delivery of the son of Sinam, the friend of Barbarossa, who had been made prisoner by Charles the Fifth, at the surrender of Tunis, and whose detention in Piombino was the cause of this sanguinary assault. A solitary chapel now stands among the ruins of Lucera. The mountains of St Marciano, at the west end of the island, and said to be five thousand feet in height, seemed to promise some romantic scenery, and we resolved to visit them, and to make the tour of the whole western district- MONTE CRISTO. ST PIERO AND ILARIO. 229 The first part of the road was conducted by Bonaparte along the sides of high hills, following aU their sinuosities, and enjoying a fine sea view of Capraia and Italy, till we descended into a fertile plaiu covered with vineyards, and turning to the left across the island, took the road to San Piero di Campo. The conical island of Monte Cristo, a steep and barren rock, lies at some distance to the south, being tenanted by monks of the order of Camaldoli. In 7~7> the monastery was disman tled, and the monks made slaves. In the ninth century, it was again laid waste by the Saracens, and in 1453, on the alarm of another attack by the Turks, the monks retired finally to Pisa, and built the monastery of St Michael in Borgo. We passed through Pila, where our guide had former ly caught the malaria fever. Here we saw several trees of pomegranates, and the first date palm which we had seen growing luxuriantly in a wild state. The track or road is extremely rocky, the surface of this district brown and parched, parti cularly where the crop had been gathered in, as no grass springs among the scanty stubble. The vil lages of St Piero and St Ilario stand high on the mountain sides, without a single tree on the bare granite. The houses are very massy, and closely built together, but have much appearance of desola tion ; within, they are very roomy and clean, and the people polite, and rather well-looking. The vol. i. t 230 sacchetTa. PIANOSO. mountain sides consist of brown granite gravel, and granite rock, worn into deep little ravines, and sprinkled with rank heath, (stipa,) low arbutus, and a few trees. Not to be wanting in curiosity, we went to see the granite pillars at Saechetta, about three miles off, and much talked of in this island. Two are fi nished, lying near the shore, with the words "Opera Pisana" on one of theim Two are quite in the rough, at some distance up the hill, together with another large mass of the same rock, which, though it gets the name of the Ship, was dbviously intends ed for a great vase or cistern. They were intend* ed, it is said, for the cathedral of Pisa. Perhaps the vase was to be a baptismal font, — but they are not worth a visit* From this we have a good view of the little flat island of Pianoso, where Posthumius, the third son of Agrippa, and of Julia, the daughter of AugustuSj was confined by order of his uncle. In the same manner, Seneca the philosopher was banished by Caligula to Corsica, which we could now see. The remains of the baths of Tiberius are still distinctly discoverable from the same place. Many Roman marbles have been dug up in Pianoso. It has been since laid waste by the Genoese and the Turks, and occupied by the English. Count Stra- soldo is at this time taking possession of it, as a pertinent of Elba, with a view of making that IC0VANNI.— POGGIO. 231 fertile little island a granary for the use of the larger. On the mountain near St Ilario, raised upon an isolated mass of granite, is the very ancient square tower of St Icovanni : it is thought to have been built by the Romans for prisoners of state. We were sumptuously entertained at St Pierro by a friend of Mr Fossi's, and in the evening went a mile farther to St Ilario, where we supped, and slept at the house of our conductor's brother. The place contains about five hundred inhabitants. Hither, too, the peasantry from the lower villages resort at mght during the unhealthy season. The place has still the remains of strong walls, that more than once successfuUy resisted the assaults of the Turks. Our countrymen, too, had, during last war, made several landings, — surely to no purpose but to waste the fives of themselves and the poor inhabitants, for they never remained twenty-four hours together. Next morning we were on our march by six o'clock to cross the high mountain above Poggio, in order to breakfast at that romantic village. The view from the top, and in the descent to Poggio, is remarkably fine ; about half way down we en ter a forest of aged chestnuts, which clothe mag nificently this district, and that of Murciano, and make them striking exceptions to the other parts of Elba. Below us lay the harbour and little vii- 232 WATERSPOUTS. lage of the Marina of Marciano, with boats at anchor ; between us and which the lower hills and valleys were all covered as usual with vines. A fine winding road, of about a mile, led us to Murciano, another romantic town, castellated on a rocky prominence. From a high point, a little fur ther on, I observed a deep scar to the west, where about a year past a waterspout broke, carrying in an instant soil and inhabitants through a deep ravine down into the sea. Such waterspouts are frequent in the Levant in the fall of the year. This phenomenon is finely described by Falconer in the Shipwreck. We did not climb up to the chapel of the Madonna, even though Bonaparte had ho noured it with his presence. After paying our respects to the Potesta, or Judge of the place, who had kindly invited us to partake of refreshments, when we met him at Saint Pierro, where he had been shooting, we returned to an excellent dinner at two o'clock, at the house of the worthy curate at Poggio, with whom we had breakfasted. It was a meagre day,! but he had deferred his mess of maca roni (though he had eaten nothing that day) till he could join us in the only way which his scruples allowed, at the excellent and substantial dinner which he or Mr Fossi had provided. The evening was showery, and we were pressed to stay all night, as the road to Porto Ferajo (ten miles distant) was, for the first five miles, through a THUNDER STORM. 233 narrow, stony, and mountainous track. The even ing, however, seemed to improve, and the weather to dissemble, till we were fairly in its power, and then came on such a storm of lightning and rain, as is rarely met with in more northern latitudes. Um brellas were quite ineffectual, and the close and vivid flashes made me think them scarcely safe : to ride fast was impossible in such difficult roads. We attempted once to take shelter, but we soon con cluded, that we risked less from the rain and light ning than from cold and fever. When we reach ed the good road, the poor ponies were exhausted ; " nathless we so endured," proceeding at a walk to Porto Ferajo. The gates were already shut, and we had to send to the governor for leave to enter. This we obtained promptly, but before the draw bridge was lowered, we had waited a full half hour, drenched and exposed to the noxious air, and suf fering from apprehension as well as fatigue. Our friend Mr Fossi agreed with me, that a hearty supper, and a glass of generous wine, were excel lent restoratives. Our third companion, Mr Mel- lini, did not quite recover from the consequences of this drenching during our stay in Elba. This gentleman also showed us every possible kindness. His brother, the Colonel of Engineers, who intro duced us, was the intimate private friend of Napo leon, and attended him in his last progress to Paris. Napoleon is here understood to have been driv- 234 napoleon's departure. en to this step, by learning that the sovereigns at Vienna had determined to remove him to a se curer prison. Had they attempted this, they would have repaired a gross blunder, by a less pardonable violation of treaty. To place him in Elba was ri diculous : but in the face of a solemn treaty, to re move him by force, would have been infamous, at least for England. The other parties had little character to lose. Policy is their principle of action. However, Bonaparte sent a small boat to watch the English frigate into the port of Leghorn, and in two hours after he was actually at sea. But he found himself far from easy, either in mind or in stomach. He asked Colonel Mellini to try an impromptu for their mutual amusement : when the following Italian verses were in a short time produced. " Stanco di tanti tradimenti il pondo, Abbamlona il Lion L'Elbano regno, In qui volea, d'eterna pace in segno, 11 c-entro augosto stabilir del mondo. L'Elba lo piansi ; e su dal mar profundo Surge Nettuno di rispetto in segno. G'ihsoi. ne esulta, e a ospite si degno Offie il vel'di Medea, dono fecondo. Turba di duci ed insignati, fuoii Escan Hal tempio rincontrar lo, e mesta Piu non si aseonde ed i 1 lui spera onesla Italia, e via riprendi asta e cimicero. Miialo ed gia l'idea ravvolge in testa, Che il destin de' cangiar del mondo intero.'' _lFaow_S-i_i_____lLo ts£ «i al_ce1.aj!l--%3br*r -tke/ TEiiionpejPiiM-* KiatjpalefflaiL , ojE sum Tnnma'ffoijnn-ii %<®$?J Jms ]ElIb©s(& wTntaurtls _ SKETCH BY NAPOLEON. 235 " Fatigued with the oppression of conspiracies, the lion quited his Elbese realm, in which he wished to fix the august centre of the world, in token of eternal peace. Elba wept for him, and Neptune, in sign of respect, emerged from the deep sea ; Jason rejoiced, and to so worthy a stranger offered the fleece of Medea, a rich gift. A crowd of generals and distinguished warriors came out from the temple to meet him ; and Italy no longer, in sadness, concealed her partiality, but awoke to honest hope, and quickly resumed the spear and helmet. She saw him, and already cherished in her mind the idea, that he was to change the destiny of the whole world." It is sufficient to remark, that fiction has ever been the animating principle of poetry, and that poetry and prophecy have long ceased to he united. The old Greeks used to throw out many sarcastic gibes at the oracles of Delphi, and marvelled that the God of Poetry should deliver his own prophe tical responses in such execrable verse. We have got a curious sketch by Bonaparte, which will amuse you on our return. It is a de sign for the uniform of his Corsicans, and was done to assist his explanation of it to Colonel Mellini. A very pointed question was one evening put to me by the colonel : " Whether, if he, once my de clared enemy, should throw himself on my gene rosity, I would act to him as England had done $36 NAPOLEON BELIEVED TO BE IN ENGLAND. to Napoleon ?" To say " no," without explana tion, would have been to disavow the conduct of my country. I told him, that though, as an indi vidual responsible only to myself, I might have done otherwise, yet that, as one of a confederacy, which had been nearly destroyed by his violence, and could attribute the act of surrender to -nothing else than weakness or despair, I should have con sidered myself bound, by every principle of hu manity,, honour, and self-preservation, to secure myself ;and my friends against the probable re newal of such terrible disasters; and that Eng land, in sparing life, had done enough. It will surprise you to learn, how obstinately it is believed that Napoleon is still in England, and that the government intends to bring him forward again, as an engine of European policy, and the torch that is to kindle afresh a European war. I assured them as obstinately that the policy of England was peace, and that the exhaustion of a long war made it absolutely necessary, unless her honour was grossly assailed ; that nothing could be more detestable to the mind of a Briton, than the notion of bringing forward Bonaparte, under any circum stances, to embroil Europe, or to undo that which she had spent so many hundred millions to effect : that such a cause could only be acceptable to the admirers of Machiavel. The people of Elba may be very content, if they TUNNY FISHERY. 237 do not turn ambitious. They seem to be equally removed from poverty and riches. A moderate fortune is from two to three hundred crowns a year. There are no beggars ; whether this arise from the general distribution of property, or from the measures of government. Twice only was I asked for charity, and that not by common men dicants. Though there are no overgrown fortunes, cer tain individuals are pretty affluent, particularly a Mr Senno, who rents the tunny fishery at 36,000 livres a year. The amount of the produce is un known, but the mode of fishing is curious ; and in the months of June and July, the season for fish ing, many people from aU quarters come to see it. Nets are anchored to the bottom, in the shape of an oblong, with meshes, through which the fish (weighing, at an average, from 100 to 200 lbs. each) can easily enter. These are made of a kind of rush, of which the fish are said to be fond. Within are strong nets, which, when drawn up by ropes from the bottom, where they are allowed to rest, divide the oblong into three apartments, securing, at the proper signal, the fish in each. When an order comes for 2000 or 3000 pounds of fish, Mr Senno rows out to one of his nets, and smoothing the surface of the water with oil, can see the tunny playing below, and can pretty nearly ascertain the quantity. Boats are then stationed 238 VARIETY OF FISH. — MAGNETIC MOUNTAIN. round and at the cords attached at the bottom to the nets. These are quickly hauled up, one after another, and drawn closer together at top. The tunny, feeling themselves confined, instantly begin to fight, and then the fishers strike them under the throat as they come to the surface. The fish is so strong and so violent, that it still requires much address to avoid serious mischief in getting them into the boat. The greatest variety of excellent fish teem around the shores of Elba. I may mention haddock, turbot, skate, cod, the common and red mullet, soals, grayling, whitings of great size, pike, pilchard, a few salmon, tunny, besides at least thirty other kinds, for which I can find no English name. The tunny is boiled half an hour, cut into small pieces, exposed a night to the air, and then with a little salt put into small jars under a covering of Florence oil, and sent to Leghorn, Genoa, and Rome : it will keep well for two or three years. Before I set sail for Elba, I must not forget my loadstone ; there is an entire mountain of it near Capoliveri. The compass of ships sailing near the south-east point of the island is said to undergo the greatest confusion and derangement ; 1 had not an opportunity of ascertaining this, but I brought away two large bits of the rock. The de rangements of the needle are of no consequence to the Elbese, for they never employ a compass ELBESE SAILORS. 239 in their coasting trade : in fact, they are, perhaps, the worst sailors in the world. But you shall judge. After taking leave of our excellent and hospi table friends, from the governor downwards, we set sail with a wind that should have carried us to Leghorn in six or seven hours. At ten in the morning we had run half way, when a squall of wind and rain, which rent our rag of a sail, not stronger than an old shirt, made them run back to Populonia with all possible speed. A calm suc ceeded, they would not row in a calm ; a light air sprung up, they must have their sail mended, though they had another untorn ; and besides, certain other vessels ou the same course were still at anchor. Presently these stood out to sea, but the captain asserted, that, as they were ships of war, they must seek a port at night, and that we should arrive as soon. In short, it was clear that he had determin ed to lie aU night quietly at anchor, though in the most dangerous place of this pernicious clime. There was no help for it ; we tried to sleep in the small hold, stretched upon damp salt, suffocated with heat and stench, and devoured by fleas ; our legs, exposed under the open hatchway, were wet with showers of noxious dew. It lightned during the night, and though the wind again sprung up, the skipper expressed his fears of a " grosso mare," or rough sea, though it was as smooth as a river. 240 POPULONIA. I was so angry at his ignorance, unwillingness, and cowardice, that I told them downrightly that they were no better than a pack of land-lubbers ; and that it was evident why Lord Exmouth, in his first ex pedition, refused to take a single Italian in his fleet. I afterwards mentioned this unaccountable timidity, and J was again told that they are the worst sailors in the world. The Romans, before , the Punic war, were as skilful and courageous at. sea. The " robur, et a_s triplex circa pectus," so much vaunted by Horace, is a rare production on the coasts of Italy. How sadly degenerated since the days of John and Andrew Doria ! But in all disappointments, such as ours, there is some alleviating circumstance. We, saw the Etrus can remains of Populonia, a city which attached itself, like Elba, to the fortunes of __Eneas, near twelve hundred years before the birth of Christ. " Sexcentos illi dederat Populonia mater, " Expertos belli juvenes.'' Here were the earliest furnaces for melting the ore of Elba. The ancient city may have been large, for the ruins seem extensive. The present is a small fortified village on the top of the pro montory, and near are a few blind arches, the only part that bears a Roman stamp. The ex treme insalubrity of the place in part accounts for its decay. The great Maremma of Piombino, ¦ which connects this promontory with the high land HISTORY OF ELBA. 211 of Italy, though rich in vegetable produce, is ab solutely uninhabitable: being even more pernicious to health than the Campagna of Rome. The people look relaxed, swollen, and sallow. They have a Walcheren fever continually among them : it is of the same kind as that which prevails in the fens of Lincolnshire, and the Hundreds of Essex, though much more malignant and fatal. Bad diet, and perspiration from labour, increase the suscepti bility : and hence this fever is prevalent chiefly among the working class. It was my intention to give you a short outline of the history of Elba, but my time is at present too short for any thing more than the hastiest sketch. It has belonged to the Etruscans, the Romans, and the Goths, in the ancient and middle ages ; and then to the Pope and the Princes of Piombino. It has been attacked by Genoese, Spaniards, and Turks ; and, in the middle of the sixteenth cen tury, was annexed by Charles the Fifth to the Grand Duchy of Tuscany; as a means of protec tion against Constantinople, Tunis, and Algiers. The Prince of Piombino then became the sovereign, while Tuscany and Naples held the property of Porto Ferajo and Longone ; till, on the breaking out of the French revolution, it was successively held by the French and the English, and, in 1814, was retaiped by Buonaparte ; since that time it has passed undivided under the power of Tuscany. VOL. I. Q LETTER XX. FLORENCE. Return to Florence by Lucca. — Baths qf Pisa. — Lucca.— Baths qf Lucca. — Observations on sketching rapidly.-— Pistoia. — Prato. On our return to Florence, by Lucca, we again passed through Pisa, and availed ourselves of this opportunity of visiting the baths. They occupy about a hundred houses of various elevation, si tuated at the bottom of calcareous mountains, the lower declivities of which are covered with luxuri ant olive trees ; the earth being thrown into ter races, and supported by dry walls. We met the river Serchio, which, in breadth, resembles the Tweed at Coldstream in Scotland. The small principality of Lucca belongs to the Duchess of Parma. On entering, and on leaving it, strangers must submit to the trouble of having their trunks examined, or purchase exemption from this ceremony, by a present to the Doganna or custom-house, besides a stated sum which it is entitled to demand. We saw some of the peasant ry employed in sprinkling the ground with liquid manure, while others were irrigating it with large scoops, such as our bleachers use in watering linen. lucca. » 243 Lucca is a town of considerable beauty. It is suiTounded with walls, which would form, how ever, but a very feeble defence against a besieg ing enemy. The towers of the churches, rising above these walls, have a fine effect in the rich and beautiful landscape ; the view being bounded by the Apennines, which ascend in the most fas cinating forms to the skies. On a nearer inspection, the churches are less pleasing than in their distant effect. That of San Martino is not destitute of external beauty, were not its architecture frittered away in numberless unmeaning arches. Inlaying with white and black marble is stiU to be seen in every town ; but cer tainly its pretensions, like those of most pretend ing things, greatly exceed its merits. Among the treasures of this church is a piece of timber, said to have been part of the true cross, and held, of course, in peculiar veneration. In the church of San Romano there is a paint ing of the Crucifixion by Guido, unaffected in colouring ; and in drawing, accurate and expres sive. For the picture by Bartolommeo, I cannot say so much. The church of San Michele is dis figured by Gothic trifling ; ornamented shafts of columns may suit a Ught rural building, but in a large edifice they are always out of character. The celebrated Baths, at the distance of a few miles from Lucca, are situated among mountains, 244 BATHS OF LUCCA. whose inviting aspect would, of itself, have render ed the temptation to visit them irresistible. Our road lay through valleys which presented, as we advanced, the finest variety of romantic scenery. The sun was just sufficiently elevated above the horizon to produce that aerial effect, which soft ened and blended into each other the lines of the mountains ; the river, broad and deep, bore on its sparkling waves the glory of the skies ; towns and villages of picturesque appearance were seen on the acclivities and in the valleys ; and noble chestnut trees, uniting with the profusion of charming ob jects, formed the most delightful pictures. Bridges of singular construction spanned the rapid stream ; and rafts of wood were either hurried down the current, or glided under the hanging branches which obscured the evening light. But what lan guage can describe the scenes which the baths and the neighbouring buildings on the mountains com mand ? Surely such scenes must have the most cheering influence on the heart of the invalid, while he enjoys, at the same time, the benefit of a pure atmosphere, secure from the danger of sultry hours. The man of taste and feeling will miss a luxurious feast, if he visit not the vale and the baths of Lucca. Another of our excursions from this interest ing town was to the palace of Prince Bacciochi, who married the sister of Napoleon. Richness, OBSERVATIONS ON RAPID SKETCHING. 245 united with simplicity, appeared in every apart ment. The Princess was greatly beloved. Roads, bridges, and many other improvements, were made at her command, and the principality of Lucca became a paradise. On our way to Florence, we passed through Pescia, a clean, well paved, and pleasant town. From the bridge we had a view, which we sighed to leave. Proceeding on our journey, we soon came to the town of Serravalle : it crowns a slop ing hfll, and its picturesque situation, with the whole scenery around, reminded us of the interest ing compositions of Poussin. On crossing the ris ing ground below the towers of Serravalle, we came within view of Pistoia. TravelUng hurriedly, we could have only a passing glance of many a charming scene. This we regretted the more, be cause we found it impossible to retain so vivid an impression of their characteristic beauties, as to enable us to describe them with accuracy. In general, it may be observed, that description, unless written on the spot, can never convey a dis tinct idea to the mind of one who has not seen the original ; and even when drawn up with every advan tage, the impression which it communicates must be, in some degree, vague. Were twenty artists to form a picture, even from the most correct description of scenery, they would all be different, and not one would be true to nature. A few slight lines with 246 PISTOIA. the pencil, under whatever disadvantages, would embody more of the reality of the scene, and con trol the imagination within the limits of truth. That I might not lose entirely a variety of interest ing subjects, I attempted to make what may be called carriage sketches, done when we were tra velling at the rate of from five to six miles an hour. Such sketches, if revised, while the recollection of the originals is yet tolerably fresh, may impart a pretty accurate general idea of any scene, which is not too varied and complicated for this rapid mode , of delineation ; at least, they will aid the imagina tion more than any verbal description. It must be observed, however, that this applies only to scenes at such a distance from the eye, as to afford time to sketch nearly the whole, before the respective parts are materially varied in their aspect by our change of place. It is almost unnecessary to add, that this loose mode of drawing ought by no means' to be adopted, unless every other be im practicable. Pistoia, a town of considerable extent, is adorned with many curious and splendid edifices. The Baptistry, the Cathedral, and the adjacent build ings, as seen from the Piazza del Duomo, form noble combinations for the pencil. The alternation of black and white marble still prevails, but is here less offensive than in most of the other towns in which we have seen it. DUOMO OF PRATO. 247 The great ward of the hospital of Pistoia, like that in Florence, is open at each end ; and, through the iron gates from the street, we may perceive the sick lying on iron beds in two parallel rows. We walked into it, and found that great attention was paid to the comfort of the sick: the physicians, aware of the value of cleanliness, have the hospital kept in the highest order ; even more so, indeed, than most of the palaces of the princes. On the principal front of the hospital is a basso relievo ex tremely well executed, in some vitrified substance, representing persons attending the sick in various diseases. At Pistoia we were greatly imposed upon by our knavish landlord, and were obliged to apply to the poUce, who did not hesitate to reduce his exorbitant charge. Indeed, a British subject has only to apply for redress in Italy, and he may rely on immediately obtaining it. The country between Pistoia and Prato is flat and tame, except towards the Apennines ; but its amazing luxuriance would make the eye of the agriculturist beam with delight. The Duomo of Prato "is gloomy and grand, though not without decorations of silver and gold : the miserable people begging and praying at the same time, absolutely drove us out by their impor tunity. On the outside of the cathedral, fronting the street, is a beautiful marble pulpit built quite upon the corner of the edifice. It is supported by 248 INDIAN CORN. a right angular pillar with brackets and rich carv ing. The body of the pulpit is circular, and in the compartments are sculptured, in the finest taste, several dancing angels. From the centre of this exalted seat is a beautiful column supporting a canopy, but the symmetry of the design, the taste in the detail, and the excellent finishing, is superior to any thing we have seen of the kind, and led me to wish I could have procured a model of it for our churches in Scotland, where the taste and form of some of the pulpits are comparatively mean. From Prato to Florence there is little variety. The country is much the same as it appears on the opposite side near Empoli. The crops of Indian corn, when green, are very beautiful, but in autumn the leaves have a dry and withered appearance, shewing too much of the stalk, and as the plants are considerably separated from each other, they do not properly combine for picture. The golden grain is not visible till the leaves encompassing it are stripped away ; it is with these leaves that the flasks of wine and oil are covered, and I believe they are generally used for stuffing mattresses, being infinitely more elastic than straw. LETTER XXI. PERUGIA. Road to Rome — Arezzo. — Pictures in the Cathedral. — Italian Sky. — Intrinsic beauty qf Dew Drops. — Lake qf Thrasimene. — Perugia — Pictures, Academy, and Build ings — Pictures by Raphael, Perugino, and Guido. — Obser vations on giving such pictures to youth to study from Casa della Penna — Petrifying Spring qf San Phillipo, applied to theformation of Casts. V V e left Florence for Rome, on a delightful fros ty morning. The countrymen were wrapped up in their great coats as in the * coldest climates, and the women carried choffers with charcoal to keep themselves warm. The gossamer hung with its diamonds from bush to bush, and the dew drops fell in momentary glances. The olive had assumed its darkest colour of ripeness, and the crops were surprisingly rich. The grape had long since been gathered, and •The Italians seldom use the arms of their great coats ex cept occasionally as pockets. The coat is generally hung upon the left shoulder, the sleeves hanging loose. 250 FAREWELL VIEW OF FLORENCE. nothing but a few golden leaves appeared upon the festoons, which were suspended from the trees. Upon a rising hill some few miles from Florence, we took our farewell view, and fortunately were on that point of elevation which brought all the inter esting objects together. The numerous towns, vil las, and palaces, combined, and gave the appearance of one vast and mighty city. But when we as cended, the objects separated, and in some degree lost their interest, by being scattered in the land scape. The Tuscan olive, too, which is generally planted in rows, looked rather formal. The se cond crop of barley was in the ear, (28th Novem ber.) The Italian streams, beautiful and fanciful as they often are, winding among rich or romantic scenes, want transparency to do justice to the varied beauty which graces their banks. From Piano Delia Fonte the country opens to the east, and the Apennines assume superior gran deur. Arcades, projections, and colonnades, seem ed the favourite style of building, and we were struck with the beauty of Incisa. Frying of fish and roasting of chesnuts in the streets was here the principal employment of the lower class. From the beautiful scenery of Renaccio on our left, we travelled to Levane, where we passed the night. In the morning, the mists rose in horizon tal lines, leaving the tops of the hiUs uncovered, and occasionally the sunbeams penetrated through 13 AREZZO. 25 1 them, disclosing many smiling villages and build ings. The smoke from the burning chaff upon the fields rose but a short way when it took a horizontal direction along the sky, as if pleased to follow the curious mists in all their haunts through olive groves and russet glens. The peasantry, singing the morning hymn, were pruning the vine, or digging with long handled spades. Every circum stance in a country so foreign to our own, excited pe culiar interest. The sun, throwing his playful beams among the rich confusion of silver mists, half dis covered towns, purple hills, and richest verdure, gave an enchanting cast to nature, which before we had never witnessed. Every incident, in short, even to our white horses' manes, opposed to dark shadows or varieties of colour as we moved along, gave amusement, and hinted the value of a little brilliancy, especially where monotony prevailed. Much of the country on our way to Arezzo is com posed of clay and gravel, and the hills are strangely worn and channelled by the surface waters. Arezzo itself, seated on a gently swelling hill, commands a lovely plain surrounded by mountains of pleasing form and moderate elevation. This city was the birth place of Vasari, and the cathedral contains several of his works ; indeed, the high altar may be said to be covered with them, both before and be hind. His St George and the Dragon, which is held in high estimation by the priests, is absolute- 252 PICTURES IN THE CATHEDRAL. Iy bad in most of the essential parts. St George himself is but a common figure, without dignity, and the horse, miserably drawn, appears little bet ter than the portrait of a rocking horse : and what can be more revolting than a figure which is near the dragon, the flesh stripped off, and appearing to contain disgusting putrid bowels ? Every part, indeed, wants dignity and taste. The Miraculous Draught of Fishes, by the same master, is greatly better, but San Donato and St Peter are the best of his works. I should, however, mention the Virgin in the picture of the Ascension, which is pretty good; the angels, like wise, have at least some drawing to recommend them. Vasari's portraits of himself and parents are all extremely vulgar in the expression, though better painted than his other subjects. In the cathedral is Benvenuti's celebrated picture of Judith and Holifernes. Judith stands elevat ed upon steps holding the head, surrounded by several figures, all of them well designed, and in better composition than appears in any other pic ture of the master. Sabatelli's painting, which is a companion to Benvenuti's, looks poor and spirit less. In this cathedral is an ancient altar, curious in the workmanship/which is said to have cost no less than L. 15,000. Twelve priests in rich robes were officiating to five beggars, who kept importuning us HOUSE OF PETRARCH. ITALIAN SKY. 253 for charity while the prayers were in their mouths. Arezzo, indeed, sadly abounds in this appendage of Italian travelling, rendering examination almost impracticable by their incessant teasing. In the principal square are some handsome build ings, especially the customhouse designed by Vasari. We were also pleased with a circular temple, which had all the character of antiquity, mouldered, cor roded, and covered with many interesting hues of age. After visiting the square and the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre, we went to see the Casa Petrarcha, or house of Petrarch, into which we walked as if it had been our own. At present it is inhabited by a physician, and is greatly modernized, having all the external appearance of a comfortable dwelling. On the front is an inscription relative to Petrarch, bear ing date 1810. We left Arezzo for Camoscia, near Cortona. The second spring presents the most refreshing greens on the various fields, but the trees retain their russet robes, and do not appear to bud a second time, at least not to produce any effect upon the landscape. The Italian skies are clearer than those of Britain, and occasionally we see them very brilliant. To-day, towards the evening, the horizon appeared of the brightest orange, with an intermediate and harmonizing colour of the most delicate hue of carmine, which lost itself in purple ; the colour of the mountains was of a blackish neutral tone, which 254 INTRINSIC BEAUTY OF DEW drops. greatly contributed to the splendour of the sky, especially when it was likewise opposed to the dark cool grey of the olive groves. A little wandering stream went sparkling on, as if it had been cover ed with a thousand diamonds. No traveller stopping at Camoscia should omit the opportunity of seeing Cartona, the capital of Etruria. It is a noble ancient town, with Cyclo pean walls, situate upon the acclivity of the hill immediately above Camoscia. It contains much to interest the curious visitant, especially its aca demy, museum, and library. The views are in imitably fine ; particularly from some points where part of the ancient city is brought into contrast with the rich country and distant hills of Radico fani, and the Thrasimene and Clusian lakes. As we travel on, no circumstance seems in vain. The very breath of our horses in these frosty mornings gives a value to many a singular scene : affording an accidental choice of clearness or general effect, and appearing pale, or of an amber colour, as the sun may shine on it, it suggests the value of each effect upon the various objects, — ever teaching something to the observing mind. The dew drops on the bushes, or trembling and sparkling on the spray, never failed to charm us. The associations of purity, freshness, and coolness, might enter into our emotion of delight ; but it certainly arose, primarily and chiefly, from the intrinsic beau ty of the dew drops. We are so formed by nature as LAKE OF THRASIMENE. 255 to derive pleasure from particular colours and forms, independent of any reflex feeling ; and the infant, when first it sees a rose or a diamond, or its view is directed to the glories of an evening sky, displays a kind of transport, which surely can not, without overstrained ingenuity, be referred to any previous association. A lower degree of plea sure may, in the same manner, be excited by objects of inferior beauty, while from others the infant will turn away with indifference, or shrink in disgust. When we left Cortona, the beautiful and ex tensive lake of Thrasimene soon appeared, bath ing the shooting promontories with its pellucid water. The lovely peaceful mirror reflected the mountains of Monte Pulciana, and the wild fowl skimming its ample surface, touched the waters with their rapid wings, leaving circles and trains of light to glitter in gray repose. As we moved along, one set of interesting features yielded to another, and every change excited new delight. Yet, was it not among these tranquil scenes that Hannibal and Flaminius met ? Was not the blush of blood upon the silver lake of Thrasimene ? " Her aged trees rise thick, as once the slain Lay where their roots are ; but a brook has ta'en — A little rill of scanty stream and bed — A name of blood from that day's sanguine rain ; And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead Made the earth wet, and turned the unwilling waters red." 256 PERUGIA. After passing the stream of Sanguinetto, we entered the Papal territory. Nothing could ex ceed the fulness of the olive harvest; yet our sa tisfaction in contemplating the bounty of nature in this luxuriant country, was greatly checked by seeing some miserable beings, almost as black as the fruit, picking up such as fell upon the ground. Surely man, with all his faults, deserves a better fate than to starve amidst abundance. Advancing to Perugia, we were presented with fine varieties of swelling hills, buildings, and olive groves, and Apennines in the horizon tippped with snow. Perugia crowns the summit of a hill, as indeed do most of the towns in Italy, to escape Malaria, the invisible enemy of the plains. From the tower of the cathedral, looking east, we see Asslsi, the birth place of St Francis, seated on the bosom of a hill, and overlooking a rich and fertile plain. Various parts of Perugia seem to mix with the almost shapeless hills, bounded with higher Apen nines. The south presents the ramparts, ancient walls, towers, and cupolas of the various monas teries and churches. To the west, we see the numerous buildings appearing, as it were, to climb the ridges of the hill on which the city stands, yet overtopped with majestic- mountains. From the north, the city seems to hang in air, the smoke 1 PICTURES IN THE CATHEDRAL. 257 and vapours from below, rising against its aged walls. After examining the panorama from the tower, we entered the Cathedral, in which are several pictures by Pietro Perugino, and various other masters, besides rich carvings after the designs of Raphael. The painting of the Madonna della Grazia, by Pietro Perugino, is honoured with a silver crown, diamond ear-rings, and pearl necklace, and is like wise surrounded with innumerable offerings of hearts, legs, arms, and feet. When we went to see this picture, which is hard and formal in its execu tion, several poor people were devoutly praying at the shrine; and to our astonishment, they were sud denly turned away, that we might see the picture ! The paintings in the cathedral are generally but indifferent. St Sebastian and St Lorenza, by Scaramuccia, are perhaps the best. In the church of St Augustine there are many paintings by Perugino. Grace may be traced in the figures of our Saviour and St John, bap tizing in the river Jordan, although the drawing of them is but indifferent. Joseph and Mary worshipping at the Birth of Christ is a mellow picture, without hardness ; the heads especially are excellent. Raphael's Madonna and Child, with St Ni- colo, St Bernardino, St Jerome, and St Sebas- vol. I. R 258 CHURCH OF SAN PIETRO; tian, is but ill composed. The Virgin sits uncom fortably in the sky, with three angels' heads to sup port her feet. The Adoration of the Magi, likewise by the hand of Raphael, is very like an early painting by Perugino. Barocchio's pictures are free and bread, but overloaded with drapery ; they have nature, how ever, to recommend them in many parts, which certainly makes up for a multitude of faults. The Madonna and Child, with St Agatha, St LuCia, St Peter, and St Paul, is the best of Perugino's works, and may be said to surpass those by Raphael in this ehurch. The Eternal Father, too, by Perugino, is a favourite specimen of the master. The carvings of the stalls in the choir, from designs by Raphael, are extremely fine ; and the„ seats are easy : a muttering monk advan ced to one of them, and threw himself into it seemingly to sleep. In the Oratorio Delia Sig- nora are fourteen pictures by Sasso Ferrata; the best of which are second and third from the door. Many of the figures are well drawn, in good attitudes, with a general pleasing effect of light, and shade, and colour; We were rather late in going to the church of San Pietro. The church was dark and gloomy ; but an obliging monk, without the slightest cere mony, snatched down one of the prodigious wax lights from the altar, to shew the various paintings FIRST ATTEMPTS OF RAPHAEL, &C. 259 by Vasari, Sasso Ferrata, &c. He also led us to the robing room, in which are several small pic tures by Perugino, which appear to have been por traits of monks turned into saints. In execution, they are masterly and free ; — a little painting, too, by Raphael, of Christ and St John, is excellent in colouring and infantine expression. The French have greatly injured the church of San Pietro, by the removal of the frescoes, and marks of violence may be seen in many places. The curious missals and illuminated books, they seem to have thought below their notice, or it is more probable they were concealed from them. In the Academy DeUa Bella Arte are several of the first attempts in painting of Pietro Perugino, and of Raphael, his immortal scholar. They appear to be but a step beyond the works of Giotto or Cimabue ; one of Guido's earUest works, too, of a boy paring an apple, is hung with them, and certainly does not indicate his future exceUence : it is painted on a pannel at least three inches thick, and primed with stucco. The innumerable instances which we have of early paintings on stucco grounds, on pannels, shew, that the departure from fresco or absorbent grounds was not altogether sudden, and that the final adoption of off grounds was the result of time and much experience. The first attempts of the great masters are cer tainly encouraging, and much information may be 260 MUSEUM. — GABINETTO anatomico. derived from them ;. but they are surely a dan gerous collection for young practitioners to study. It is true, they shew the first glimpses of genius and improvement, but they shew no more. Taste is ill defined, apparently accidental, and not suf ficiently under rule to guide an inexperienced mind. Yet the students of this Academy draw and paint from these early pictures, and from great cartoons, after the extraordinaiy and singular figures in the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo. The masters of these subordinate academies should be careful, lest they lead the youthful mind astray. I have seenno good productions of any of the pupils, and I am now convinced, that making enormous and elaborate finished drawings in chalk, is little better than a waste of time. The Academy have few paintings, except by Giotto, Cimabue, Albert Durer, Perugino, and Raphael's early works, all of which seem to be painted by receipt. In the museum, with which the academy is con nected, are some antiquities, chiefly such as were found in the neighbourhood of Perugia : many of them are beautiful and curious, consisting prin cipally of busts, sarcophagi, friezes, vases, terra cottas, &c. In the Gabinetto Anatomico, which is also connected with the academy, there are many anatomical preparations in wax. Some heads with the brain taken out, are yet accompanied with ver milion coloured lips and smiling faces : and here I casa della penna. — ANCIENT arch. 261 may mention, that we have seen even greater ab surdities in the celebrated Gabinetto Fisico in Flo rence, especially in the apartment of the gravid uterus, one of the most indelicate exhibitions ever opened to the public eye. There is no reason why these preparations should be made disgusting to the sight, yet consistency with nature should cer tainly be observed. In the Casa della Penna there are many paint ings, but few of any merit ; yet it is a collection one would not wish to pass. A picture by Sub- termans, and one by Annibal Caracci, with some sketches by Salvator Rosa, are the most deserving of notice. The landscapes, imitations of Gaspar Poussin, are aU indifferent. We were greatly pleas ed with the design of an Enchantment by Salvator Rosa, painted on a black ground. A magician is represented holding a warrior's sword of tremend ous size, over a variety of charms and spells. The warrior behind appears with anxious eye looking towards his sword, and a figure, indicating to what it will lead, rises in the mysterious scene with a flaming crown : a multitude of devils and strange forms, the usual accompaniments of enchantment, are indistinctly seen hovering in the gloom. The most remarkable specimen of architecture in Perugia is the ancient arch of Augustus, in which strength and elegance are most agreeably united. No cement has been used in its con- 262 PETRIFYING SPRING. struction, yet it appears as if it could still defy the elements for many centuries. The Palazzo Publico is striking in effect. The Porta de San Pietro is extremely beautiful, and the fountain near the cathedral is chaste in the design : indeed, the Italians always shew considerable taste in their wells and fountains, enriching them with some appropriate ornament. Perugia abounds in the finest subjects for the pencil ; and the man of taste must be greatly charmed with the inimitable views, especially from the Piazza della Prome, and the ancient ramparts. He may also find innumerable works of art in many of the palaces, churches, and private houses, that might well reward the trouble of searching them out. A learned gentleman, who has lately visited the celebrated baths of San Phillipo, about fifty miles from this ancient city, has shewn us several casts, which are remarkable for their sharpness and pe culiar beauty. They are produced by a petrifying spring, which is applied to the formation of cameos and various ornaments. Our friepd, imagining the process might be interesting, has obligingly favoured us with an account of it, which is as follows. The spring issues from Monte Amiato, about four miles from, Radicofani, on the route between that town and Sienna, and is situate about half a is PETRIFYING SPRING. 268 mile from the road side. The water is in such quantity as to form a large torrent, and so hot that it cannot be borne by the human body at its source. Very anciently baths were established there, aijd are still kept up. They are called Bagni de San Filippo. The water is perfectly transparent, but holds in solution a considerable quantity of sulphur, and an immense portion of carbonate of lime. Soon after the escape from the mountain, the sulphur is first deposited, and then the earthy matter, in such quantity as to have formed itself into a small mountain some hundred feet high, and nearly half a mile in length. This constant deposition of fresh earth is continually changing the place of the spring, and gradually approaching it nearer its source in the mountain. Of this petrifying water, advantage has been taken to form casts, somewhat in the foUowing manner. An impression of the medal is first taken in sulphur, or, what is still better, on glass, and the impressed figure or mould is then placed in the course pf the stream to receive the deposited matter. As, how ever, it is desirable that the dissolved earth be de posited in a certain state and condition, a series of three or four pits are sunk in the earth at a short distance from each other, and communicating by means of tubes. In these pits, deposition to a certain extent is successively made, till the water at length arrives at the last stage, refined, as it were, 264 PETRIFYING SPRING. and charged only with its desired portion of earth. It is then made to fall through a tube on two pieces of board, two prthree inches broad, placed crosswise thus +, the effect of which is tq break the stream, and throw off the water in all directions. Be neath this crossed piece is another similar one, and a third still lower, but all of them crossing in dif ferent directions, the more completely to break and disperse the column of water that falls on them. These crossed pieces are then surrounded by frame work of wood, of a pyramidal form, within which are arranged the impressed sulphurs or glass, previous ly touched with a solution of soap to smooth the surface, and facilitate the subsequent separation of the cast. They are disposed all round the pyra midal case, and placed somewhat obliquely for ward, opposite the several series of crossed sticks, and at the distance of about a foot from their ex tremities. In this position, they receive a continual and equable dash of the water, which deposits its earthy matter on the impressed surface, and which matter takes with the greatest fineness and precision the figure of the body on which it consolidates. The cast, thus obtained, may be made of any thickness, but in small figures; it is commonly from one-eighth to one-fourth of an inch. The time employed in its formation is ten or twelve days. The pyramidal frame is of use, not only for disposing the moulds, in the manner described, but also for PETRIFYING SPRING. 265 guarding against all currents of air which might disturb the process of deposition ; it is not design ed, however, to exclude the entrance of air. This manufactory was established by the late Peter Leopold, who so magnificently patronized all the sciences and arts. It is at present under the direction of Signor Pagliari, an artist of great ingenuity, who readily explains and exhibits all the stages of his process. His charges are in pro portion to the dimensions of the cast. For a. cast of 1 inch diame :ter, 1 Paul, or 5d. English ¦'_ 1* 4 3 5 6 6 9 7 10 8 20 one foot 6 inches 30 By an ingenious variation of the process, he is able to form a cast of differently coloured marbles, so as to present a white figure in relief on a blue or yellow ground, and vice versa. This is done by first forming the cast white as usual, then separat ing from it all the parts not projecting in re lief, and exposing it as before to a second pro cess of deposition, from water previously coloured. The coloured carbonate attaches itself to the white figure, and this forms a ground on the stratum of coloured matter on which the white matter rests, 266 PETRIFYING SPRING. but in a manner so as to form one solid and conr tinuous substance. I know not whether the petrifying springs in Scotland or in Derbyshire are sufficiently strong to produce casts in so short a time as ten or twelve days, but I should think the experiment might be tried with probable success, in small and delicate gameos, which would not require any great degree of thickness. LETTER XXII. ROME. Journey to Rome. — Foligna. — Temple qfClitumnus. — Spoleto. — Tenti Narni. — Otricoli. — CivitaCastellana. — Nepi.— Arrival at Rome. Soon after leaving Perugia we crossed the Tiber, flowing with its numberless associations, and excit ing that feeling of respect which is due even to inanimate objects so famed in history. While our anxious eye hurriedly examined its magnitude, its banks, and scenery, we could not help exclaiming : Can this be the yeUow Tiber of the Augustan age? this the Tiber that stUl laves the walls of the eter nal city ? How different the reality from the pic tures of imagination, which, with all our know ledge of its character, still delights in amplifying it into a majestic flood ! This famous river, near Perugia, reminded us of the Clyde in Scotland, though perhaps not quite so large. The water, of a whitish colour, leaves a considerable deposite on the vegetation on its banks, occasionally producing singular petrifactions. We passed Assisi on our left, and admired its towers, 268 FOLIGNA. cupolas and arcades, from the splendid edifice of the Madonna degli Angeli, in the plain below. The women of the country wear the panno, a piece of cloth folded on their head, and hanging down the back. Crosses and chapels increased in number as we advanced. These crosses are gene rally decorated with a hammer, a spear, a pair of pincers, and a sponge ; and occasionally a cock sur mounts the whole. Near Spetto we observed a curious mode of harrowing ; the harrow was an oblong piece of wood, on which a man stood, hold ing by the tails of oxen, and kept switching them along. In every implement of husbandry the Ita lians are much behind, and have advanced but little since the days of Virgil. Foligna is seated in a plain, surrounded by moun tains at a moderate distance. In a convent there we saw an unfinished picture of a Holy Family by Raphael, carefully outlined in bistre on a tanned leather-coloured ground, and evidently designed according to some ideal rule of beauty ; circles were described for the cheeks and nose of the Infant Jesus, and the same forms might be traced through out the picture. In this painting Raphael has finished carefully as he advanced. Foligna, in for mer days, could boast of the faracus picture of the Madonna della Foligna, by Raphael, now in the Vatican at Rome, and still contains some curi- TEMPLE OF CLITUMNUS. 269 ous relics of ancient art, particularly a silver statue as large as life, executed with considerable taste. As we advanced on our journey, the towers and steeples of Trivi appeared singular and striking, by the contrast of a stormy sky. Clouds hung heavily on the dark and dismal hills ; and strange and gloomy appearances amused the eye with marvel lous opposition of colour ; white visionary grey, threatening fiery reds, and brassy tones, stared through dusky blue, and blackish hues of purple ; while the pale and sickly-coloured buildings ap peared against Ulumined showers. Nothing can be more provoking than continued rain while travelUng amidst the lovely scenes of Italy ; yet such was now our lot. We could not, however, pass the temple of Clitumnus, though it was pouring an Italian shower. * This pretty little gem stands on the acclivity of a bank overlooking its crystal waters, which have their source at the distance of some hundred yards towards Spoleto. The temple, fronting the river, is of an oblong form, in the Corinthian order. Four columns support the pediment, the shafts of which are covered in spiral lines and in forms, to represent the scales of fish ; the bases, too, are rich- * The showers in Italy are generally very violent, even when they are of long duration. 270 TEMPLE OF CLITUMNUS. Iy sculptured. The tympanum contains no figures, but the ornament and cornice are well detailed. Within the building is a chapel, the walls of which are covered with many hundred names, but we saw none which we could recognize as British. Can it be, that this classical temple is seldom visit ed by our countrymen, though celebrated by Dryden and Addison ? To future travellers from Britain, it will surely be rendered interesting, by the beautiful lines of Lord Byron, flowing as sweetly as the lovely stream which they describe. " But thou, Clitumnus ! in thy sweetest wave Of the most living crystal, that was e'er The haunt of river nymph, to gaze, and lave Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost rear Thy grassy banks whereon the milk-white steer Grazes ; the purest God of gentle waters ! The most serene of aspect, and most clear ; Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters,— A mirror and a bath for Beauty's youngest daughters 1 " And on thy happy shore a temple still, Of small and delicate proportion, keeps Upon a mild declivity of hill, Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweeps Thy current's calmness ; oft from out it leaps The finny darter with the glittering scales, Who dwells and revels in the glassy deeps ; While, chance, some scatter'd water-lily sails Down where the shallower wave still tells it babbling tales." 4th Canto, Childe Harold. SP0LET0. €71 Spoleto, one of the most picturesque towns that we have seen in Italy, is built on the slope of a lull, and extends to the plain below. Its magni ficent castle, partly built on Cyclopean walls, crowns the whole, and, as seen with the lofty aqueduct which stretches from hill to hill, forms a perfect and most pleasing landscape. On our arrival there several workmen were excavating, and had just dis covered some arches of an ancient Roman bridge, below the bed of the present river. Several other remains of great antiquity are to be seen in the immediate neighbourhood, especially of the temples of Concord and Mars, * the former being remark able for its finely proportioned doors, exquisitely carved in the richest ornament. Twelve of the ancient Corinthian columns are within the church, (of the Crucifix,) which seems to be built on the foundation of the ancient ruins. Our stay at Spo leto was very short, which we regretted much, as there are few towns which so well deserve investi gation. The painter, especially, must be charmed with the variety of excellent material which it af fords for classic composition. The Strada Romana winds through very pleas ing scenery of varied hills, woody banks, and * We did not see the Temple of Mars, finding it to be at some distance from the town. 272 TERNI. — FALL OF VELINO. groves, and through such scenery we travel with little intermission all the way to Terni. Terni is seated in a plajn, and almost surround ed by interesting mountains. Those especially towards the celebrated fall are extremely grand. When we arrived in the town, two carts full of robbers were taken to the prison. These wretches were for a considerable time the terror of the country, and rendered it extremely dangerous to travellers. Terni may be said to be a pretty town, but the appearance of poverty and misery destroys our enjoyment of its beauty ; the houses and streets are generally good ; indeed, surprisingly so, considering the wretchedness of the beings that inhabit them ; — an observation which may apply to almost all the towns in Italy. If the palaces are uncomfortable and dirty, it can hardly be expect ed that the dwellings of the poor can be in good condition. The remains of antiquity at Terni are trifling. Part of an amphitheatre, faced with reticulated stone and a vitrified substance alternately, is all that was pointed out tons, except a small church, which is called the ancient Temple of the Sun. Paintings there are none. Even the cathedral offers nothing except a Mary Magdalene. The great attraction in this romantic country is the noble fall of Velino. As we advanced to it, we found the scenery bold and majestic, approaching, FALL OF VELINO. 278 in many parts, to the sublime. The mist from the tremendous fall was seen from afar, obscuring the rocks and wooded banks. Our road wound around perilous precipices, presenting the most fascinating scenes, and all the fantastic wildness of nature. Af ter we had crossed the shoulder of a lofty mountain, of bare and precipitous rock, the romantic village of Papignina appeared on the summit of a hill, uniting in the finest manner with the adjacent objects, and forming an unrivalled subject for the pencil. The feelings, I should think, with which a painter would delineate and study such a perfect picture, might be envied by the most enlightened man of taste. Beyond this admirable scene, we dis tinctly heard the thundering Velino, though it was stiU invisible. Imagination then began to work, and formed innumerable awful pictures ; — but the striking scene itself soon dismissed them, and pre sented one more terrific than any which the fancy drew. The stunning sound, the mist, uncertain ty, and tremendous depth, bewildered the senses for a time, and the eye had little rest from the im petuous and hurrying waters to search into the mysterious and whitened gulf, which presented, through a cloud of spray, the apparitions, as it were, of rocks and overhanging wood. The wind, how ever, would sometimes remove for an instant this misty veil, and display such a scene of havoc as ap palled the soul. But hear Lord Byron : vol. i. s 274» all OF VELINO. " The roar of waters ! from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet, That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, " And mounts in spray the skies ; and thence again Beturns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemp tied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground. Making it all one emerald 1 how profound The gulf ! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yields in chasms a fearful vent! " To the broad column which rolls on, and shews More like the fountain of an infant sea, Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes Of a new world, than only thus to be Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly, With many windings thro' the vale : Look back ! Lo ! where it comes like an eternity ! As if to sweep down all things in its track Charming the eye with dread, — a matchless cataract " Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn NARNI. 275 Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn 5 Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching madness with unalterable mien." From Terni to Narni, we travelled through a vale of pleasing appearance, but not so highly cul tivated as those of Tuscany. The ruins of an an cient bridge of Augustus presented to us a noble specimen of Roman architecture. One arch re mains entire, and the massive ruins of something like two others of different dimensions (nearly twice the breadth) grace the varying Nera. The beauties of ItaUan landscape crowded fast upon us. The town of Narni offers a succes sion of the finest compositions. Its ancient walls, towers, and splendid gate, are most attractive fea tures, and we could not pass them without an ex clamation of delight. Narni, seated on a hill, commands the whole plain towards Terni, and the picturesque mountains which terminate the view. When we pass Narni, and descend the hill, the finely wooded banks, precipices, and distant moun tains, appear to great advantage. The town it self, crowning a lofty ridge, came finely into view, and seemed to have been placed, as if on purpose to complete the picture. The wooded bills of Italy are different from those in Britain. The richness and fulness of the clustering chesnut, and 276 OTRICOLI. the grey and sober olive, afford a splendid mass of foliage, often extremely broad and grand, and al ways pleasing by the varied and opposing colours. We soon exchanged the woody hills for banks of furze, and broken grounds of the richest tones of Vegetation,, diversified with grey rock gravel, and brilliant hues of soil. The brown and yellow earths especially harmonized with the chastened greens arid greys of plants and pendent brushwood. The country, after we leave Narni, assumes an extensive and undulating character. Luxuriant olive woods cover hill and dale, giving a universal richness to the whole ; and this, with the excep tion of some defiles of gravel, is the general ex pression of Our joilrney to Otricoli. That Curious and ancient looking town stands on the ridge of a hill of no great elevation, and is, with its crufnbling walls, extremely picturesque, giving a peculiar value to the plain which stretches to the horizon. The windings of the Tiber sweep and curve in the most delightful manner, and always come in opportunely, where a little diversity seemed to be required. In the town, near the principal church, we observed several fragments of antiqui ty ; an altar, two capitals of Corinthian columns, frieze and inscriptions in the walls. These may have been brought from ancient Otriculum, the site of which is at no great distance from the pre sent town. At Otricoli the limestone is compact 4 APPROACH TO CIVITA CASTELLANA. 277 and pure, and, what to us appeared extremely cu rious, rests upon the debris of the same material ; the soUd lime being about six feet in thickness. Indeed, the country is altogether singular ; one great plain rises above another, and, on looking across the vale, one could not suppose there were any lofty banks or precipices ; none being percep tible to the eye as it passes over the plain. Yet we met with veiy deep ravines, with water flow ing at the bottom. Descending from the higher i#to the lower plain, the same appearance of solid Ume above the debris occurred. The peasantry wore frocks as with us in England. Flocks of wild goats were numerous, and the shepherds' dogs were always white. Crosses, marking scenes of murder. occasionaUy appeared, and the caverns, and some ruins upon the road, seemed fit lurking^ places for banditti. Before we reached the castle of Borghetto, the sky frowned upon us. Soracte was black and dis mal,, and the blast began to bend the olive trees. It was evening before we reached the romantic town of Givita CasteUana ; but such an evening of lightning and thunder we had never witnessed. Clouds of the strangest form and colours gather ed and opposed each other,' and hastened into un certainty. Pale grey vapours flew swiftly across the most solemn dark and purple hues, clustering. vol. i. t 278 CIVITA CASTELLANA. together, and hanging with ragged edges from hea ven to earth ! The war of the elements was pro claimed ! the silver lightning flew, and the thun der rolled ; the wind and the torrents strove against the subdued appearances of nature. All was light, all was dark, with incredible quick ness of alternation ! The towers of Civita Cas- tellana now looked sad and gloomy, and now ap peared in the utmost brilliancy of light amidst the growling of the storm. When we reached the bridge which leads over the tremendous ravine to the city, we almost believed that we were entering an enchanted town. And, truly, whether in a storm, or under a serene and azure sky, Civita Castellana must ap pear a bewitching place, abounding in every at tribute of the grand, the beautiful, or the pic turesque. Nothing, in short, is wanting that the pencil might demand to produce the finest pic tures. The most romantic banks, rocks, wood, and waterfalls, are crowned with buildings, which would have charmed a Niccolo Poussin, or a Salva tor Rosa. We have met with finer towns ; but certainly none so full of charms to a painter's eye ! On the following morning, we had a view of the country from the fortress, which itself is a no ble object, especially from the bridge. Monte Soracte appeared to great advantage, and com- CIVITA CASTELLANA. 279 pleted many compositions, which had the fortifi cations for the commanding feature. In its gene ral aspect, the country appears a rich and cultivated plain ; but, close upon the town, the deep ravines wind and twist about in various directions, and seem more like enormous fissures or awful rents in the sur face of the earth, than tracks worn by the action of the waters. The whole country is volcanic, the rocks are composed of tuffa, and with this material much of the fortress is constructed. It is not hard like stone, but tough, yet sufficiently adapted to with stand the weather ; black cinders appear in the grey ashes, and give a kind of mottled character to the crumbling walls. In the town, many of the buildings have an appearance of great antiquity. The arch was the favourite form with the ancient Romans, and their windows are always in good proportion, seldom without some finishing or framing round them. In the superstructures upon the old foundations were many fragments of ancient times, — capitals, parts of columns, and friezes, — but none of them of perfect workmanship. Civita CasteUana has a greater air of antiquity than any town which we have yet visited; but whether it be the ancient capital of the Veientes, which helped to form the nucleus of the Roman power, will still be a sub ject of dispute and doubt. The Appian way passed near the fortification ; but the modern im- 280 NEPI. provements have intruded so much upon it, that it was not perceptible. We found nothing in the Cathedral worthy of notice. The floor was paved with serpentine, porphyry, and other stones of red and grey. It contains no pictures of any note ; a St Jerome was the best, but certainly not en titled to commendation. I may, however, men tion a figure of God the Father, which was so placed in a niche, as to allow a light to fall upon it from above and behind, producing a rich reflected light on the statue. The effect was good, but the statue bad. The country from Civita Castellana to Nepi is by no means picturesque ; deep ravines, however, often occurred, and always excited wonder, as we could not trace their windings through the distant plain. The walls of Nepi are high and grand, but mouldering to decay. Towers, with their project ing bartisans, appear above them, and give an im posing look to the town, which serves to increase our dissatisfaction when we see the mean ap pearance of the interior. Near the fountain in the square we observed some fragments of marble busts and statues ; indeed, the nearer we approach to Rome, these sad relics of ancient times become more common. Scarcely a town or a village is without some relic of former splendour, either built into the walls as common stones, or scattered in FIRST VIEW OF ST PETER'S DOME. 281 the fields. Nepi, like Civita Castellana, stands on banks of tuffa. Italian pines and caverns run along the slopes, and the wizard-looking stream murmurs far below. Towards Baccano, the aspect of the country is nearly the same as in the approach to Nepi, but at Monte Rosa, it begins to appear somewhat bleak; the trees retire, and there is but little cidtivation. The fields seem neglected, and the road is bad. The lake of Monte Rosa affords no picture, nor has it any character save that of a volcano's mouth. Our road, cut through volcanic ashes, is singular in appearance. The ashes gene rally lie in strata of parallel or waving lines, some times fine, and sometimes coarse, and the cinders which are found detached are black or grey, and fuU of crystals of a whitish colour. From the top of Monte Lungo, the dome of Saint Peter's just appears, — the boast of the mistress of the world ! Who could look on such an object without emotion ? A few moments snatched it from our sight. We descended the hill, and traversed a melancholy country, suggesting ages of darkness, contrasted with splendid times. The thousand hills of ashes beyond record, and the fragments of art, and foundation walls of Roman grandeur, kept up a continual interest, till we reached the ancient city. But I must lead you regularly forward to her gates. The russet hills of the Campagna Romana are 282 APPROACH TO ROME. like the waves of a swelling ocean ; few trees ap pear, and rarely an inhabited house. The eye has no resting-place, unless on some ruined tower, or deserted dwelling. Malaria lurks on hill and plain, as the sickly complexion of the peasantry too plainly tells. Oxen alone are used for agricultural purposes, and these were grey and bulky, with tre mendous horns, which often came in contact in the yoke. Crosses, indicating where murder had been committed, appeared upon the edges of the road, and fragments of human beings upon gibbets wav ing in the wind. Can the frequency of these crosses arise from the circumstance of their being erected on the spot, which, in another country, would not be in dicated by any such memorial ? or is the num ber of murders to be ascribed to the popular be lief in the efficacy of ecclesiastical absolution ? to a temper prone to extreme revenge ? to the uncer tainty of obtaining legal redress of injury ? or in some degree to the united co-operation of all these causes ? Between the sixth and seventh mUe stone, the domes and cupolas of Rome, with the winding Tiber, Tivoli, and the Sabine hfils, appear over the dejected country. We passed the sculptured tomb of Vibius, called the Tomb of Nero. Its fate is fast approaching; merely balanced on its foundation, — a few rude storms, and then its day is ENTRANCE INTO ROME. 283 over. No carriages appeared upon the road, no bustle of any kind ! A universal melancholy si lence prevailed, even within a mile or two of Rome. When we crossed the Ponte Mole, the Tiber ap peared broad and deep, and much discoloured. We soon drove through the Porta del Popolo, and entered the imperial city ; " mother of arts, as once of arms !" LETTER XXIII ROME. Panorama from the Top qf the Capitol. — Sketch of the in terior qf St Peter's. Vv e stood on the tower of the Capitol, and sur veyed the remains of that city, and those trophies which emperors and kings, through many ages conquerors of the world, had looked upon with ex ultation, and accounted substantial monuments of their glory. The colossal aqueducts bestrode the Campagna ; the Appian way was shaded by the tombs of the most illustrious Romans, — tombs now following fast into oblivion the relics of their proud possessors ; — those of Caius Cestus and Cecilia Metella, being all that are now distin guishable. We surveyed the ancient walls of the Eternal City, built to protect its infancy against the incursions of restless tribes, but insufficient to de fend its age against its Gothic conquerors : — the triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine, built at a time when the arms of barbarians could never be expected to overtake those favourites of conquest, and to spoil, in their turn, the spoilers of PANORAMIC VIEW FROM THE CAPITOL. 285 mankind. We beheld the temples of heathen wor ship, now, with the worship itself, for ever fallen, though the spirit of pagan superstition seems still to Unger among their ruins. Jupiter Tonans, di vested of his attributes, has long since resigned his thunders to the pontiffs of the Vatican. The palace of the Ca.sars is scarcely discoverable by its paltry remains, wild weeds of a summer's growth overshadowing all that exists of structures intended for interminable duration. We threw our eyes over the ancient temples of Romulus and Remus, the founders of the monarchy ; the temples of the Sun and of Peace, — the latter only suggesting its opposite, and serving to remind us of ancient Rome, as a nursery of warriors. We reverted to the Capitol, still crowning and commanding the city of conquest, and to the curious excavations below, again bringing into view vestiges of ancient grandeur, of which history itself seems to have taken no account. Chief of all, our attention was rivetted by the Coliseum and the Forum ; — the former often wet with the blood of gladia tors, — the latter, in the ear of fancy, still echoing to the eloquence of a Brutus or a Cicero. The Coliseum, perhaps, more than any of the anti quities, realizes the visions of the student of an cient history. Its vast size, its unnatural destina tion, its measured and tardy decay, having already outlived the lapse of many centuries, proclaim at 286 PANORAMA FROM THE CAPITOL. once, that the earthly schemes of man, so far be yond the term of his mortal existence, are short lived, mean, and trifling, compared to his eternal destination. To the right of the Tiber, which takes its course along the foot of the Aventine Mount, we remark the Ripa Grande, or Quay, circumscribing its range to the south ; the river it self, — though choaked and shallowed by the debris of its banks, and the crumbling edifices of successive centuries, — broad, deep, and unruffled by the ruins which it conceals, is still the yellow muddy Tiber of the Augustan age, finely corresponding in tone and colour with the dusky ruins that nod upon its shores. The Tiber is lost for a time to the eye, among the various buUdings, and again appears in view, taking its course in winding lines of light across the wide waste that stretches off towards the sea. The hill of Janiculum, the palaces, the villas of Pamphili, Corsini, and the numerous structures of modern Rome, its domes, monasteries, churches, and palaces, successively occupy the attention, till we come to the Tarpeian Rock itself, now scarcely formidable, being almost lost in rubbish. Then turning towards the west, the eye rests on the dome of St Peter's, and the Vatican, with all its far-famed treasures of sculpture and painting. The mighty building of St Peter's, the first and most magnificent temple in the world, seems sovereign of modern Rome, (as the Coliseum does of the an- PANORAMA FROM THE CAPITOL. 287 cient city,) surrounded by his vassals at humble dis tance, conformable to the inferiority of their rank and pretensions. All seems, however, to be pro vided for the purposes of a worship, meant to cap tivate the senses by its external splendour and beauty, until the very object of religion, the culti vation of the Christian virtues, which are meek and humble, is forgotten in the magnificence of a priest hood of princes; combining the splendour and luxu ries of life with their preparations for bidding it adieu. What a contrast to the Coliseum, which, on the other hand, speaks of heathen times, and feelings scarcely human, when a whole people used to assem ble, to be delighted with the suffering, the groaning, and destruction of unfortunate fellow mortals, select ed to shed each other's blood, without any motive of enmity or revenge, but for the sole purpose of gratifying the taste of an unthinking and fero cious populace ! Such scenes might nerve the arm, and steel the heart for purposes of conquest ; but, as certainly they annihilated the finer senti ments of the soul, and degraded the lords of the creation into fit companions or rivals to the ty rants of the forest. From St Peter's we were naturally led to the Mausoleum of Hadrian and the Pantheon of Agrip- pa, together with the great works of a succession of ages ; — which, though differing in date, seem to the eye of a modern beholder of almost equal 288 PANORAMA FROM THE CAPITOL. antiquity, and impress him with almost equal vene ration and awe. From this spot, too, may be seen the columns of Antonine and Trajan. In the Forum of the latter emperor, excavations disclose the pristine city, far beneath the level of its modern, though still ancient successor. The Quirinal Palace of the Pope, to the north, combines with Soracte and the snowy Apennines, and presents to the eye the most interesting and ever-varying pictures. Lastly, and immediately below the spectator, the eye rests on the Museum of the Capitol, designed by Michael Angelo, and filled with works of the chisel, during every age of the progress of the rival yet sister arts of architecture and statuary, from the bronze wolf, said to have been struck by lightning at the death of Ca_sar, to the modern ornaments of the Museum. After exam ining the detail of this most astonishing scene, we cast our eyes generally over the whole, and rested them for a while on those permanent features, the Alban Mount, with ancient Tusculum on its bo som, Tivoli sparkling in the sun, and the seven hills of ancient Rome. All this it were vain to attempt to describe, and still more the emotion which it excites ! for in such a scene, comprehend ing not local space only, but even an expanse of ages, there is that, to use a scriptural expression, " in the mind of the spirit, which cannot be ut tered." INTERIOR OF ST TETER's. 289 I shall now lead you to St Peter's, and endea vour to represent the interior of that noble temple. The view is perhaps the best near the bronze statue of St Peter ;* and immediately beside it the survey of the interior is magnificent and imposing. We saw it under the most striking effect, adorned with the beams of the sun, playing upon" its gorgeous magnificence, — the noble dome, with its various colossal paintings in Mosaic, of angels, prophets, and apostles, the latter in the spandrils at least twenty-five feet in height. In the transept of the cross are seen the noble sepulchral monuments of the Popes by Canova, Bernini, Michael An gelo, and others ; splendid pictures in Mosaic, designed by Raphael, Domenichino, Guercino, and Guido, scarcely distinguishable from the finest paintings ; grand columns of marble, por phyry, and granite, the gigantic supporters of the dome, each of which, were it hollow, would be sufficient to contain hundreds of people. Nu merous colossal statues of saints, in niches, at least thirteen feet high ; the various and precious stones which impannel the waUs of the whole building; the richness of the ornamented roof; the galleries from which the reUcs are occasion- * The statue of Jupiter Capitohnus, the supreme divinity of ancient Rome, furnished the material for this statue of Pe. ter, the presiding saiiit of the modern capital. VOL. I. T 290 INTERIOR OF ST PETER'S. ally exhibited; the great altar of Corinthian brass by Bernini, (the height of which is not less than the highest palace in Rome,) with its twisted co lumns wreathed with olive ; the hundred brazen lamps continually burning, and surrounding the tomb of the patron saint, with its gilded bronze gate, enriched to the utmost with various orna ments ; the massive silver lamps ; the hangings of crimson silk ; the chair of St Peter, supported by two popes, statues of great magnitude ; the pave ment composed of the most rare and curious mar bles of beautiful workmanship ; the statue of St Peter, with a constant succession of priests and per sons of all descriptions, kissing his foot ; the people going to be confessed, and to engage in other acts of religion — form a whole not to be paralleled on earth : especially when seen, as I saw it, with the sun's beams darting through the lofty windows of the dome, throwing all into mysterious light, tip ping the gilded and plated ornaments, and giving additional richness to the colours of the Mosaic painting, and to the burnished silver lamps, which sparkled like little constellations; while the effect of all was heightened by the sound of the organ at ves pers, swelling in notes of triumph, then dying upon the ear, and sinking into the soul ; the clear me lodious tones of the human voice, too, filling up the pauses of the organ, diffusing a deeper solem nity through this great temple, and making us INTERIOR OF ST PETER'S. 291 feel an involuntary acknowledgment to God, who had gifted man with such sublime conceptions. This sacred temple is open in common to the prince and to the beggar ;* and here the latter may find an asylum, and even feel, amidst his present abasement, the exaltation of his nature. Never shall I forget a poor wretched diseased boy, not more than four years of age, with scarcely a rag to cover him, kneeling in front of all the magnificence which I have attempted to describe, with his little hands and eyes raised to heaven. His appearance in such a place excited in our minds even higher feelings of the sublime, than aU the surrounding pomp and splendour of papal decoration ; — for while this gorgeous fabric shall be crumbling into un sightly ruins, — this little human speck, almost over looked amidst the variety and vastness of sur rounding objects, — this little heir of immortality will enjoy undiminished youth throughout the ages of eternity. * I remember seeing two Princesses kneeling at the tomb of St Peter, when a common mendicant came up, and placed herself within a few inches of them. The servants of the Prin cesses, in splendid liveries, kneeled behind ; but they were not very devout. They kept pulling each other's cpats, and pointing to the pictures, and the beautiful effects of the sun'_ rays through the windows of the dome. LETTER XXIV. ROME. Rome as it appears from elevated situations. — Gates. — Streets. — Palaces. — Varied population. — Shops. — Inferior streets. — Destruction of 'ancient marble.— Squares Obelisks. — Churches. — External effect qf St Peter's — Pantheon. — Remains qf antiquity preserved in the walls. You will naturally expect me to describe the ap pearance of the interior of the eity, its streets, palaces, and churches ; but please to recollect that this has been done so often, and so minutely, that it would be presumption in me to attempt to offer you more than the slightest sketch. First, then, let me inform you, that, although Rome, from all the elevated points, but especially from the Capitol, the Pincian hill, and Mount Janiculum, presents a most imposing appearance, it is very possible that the traveller may be disappointed on entering the city. The noble gates, so much talked of, (I mean the modern ones,) are not so simple and so grand as Rome is entitled to. Even those designed by Michael Angelo would not greatly excite your ad miration. His broken pediments, and pediments within pediments, and unmeaning ornaments, would STREETS. PALACES. 293 not gratify your taste, or chann your fastidious eye. The streets are narrow, dirty, and rendered somewhat dismal by the height of the buildings. To the pedestrian, too, they are extremely un comfortable, from the want of side pavements ; or, when these do occur, they are high, narrow, and composed of small stones, extremely unpleasant to walk upon. The houses are large and often un seemly ; the lower apartments of the palaces have grated windows, and are seldom inhabited except occasionaUy as stables. These palaces are of enormous magnitude ; the Piazza Collona, which is a considerable square, is formed by the sides of fourof these colossal buildings. The Doria and Pamphili are joined, and the extent of them united is prodigious; yet the Pontifical palaces cover a still greater area. In general, they are greatly enriched with ornaments, bal conies, belts, and cornices, but seldom in good taste : indeed, no city which I have seen, so de cidedly teaches the discriminating architect what he should avoid. The symmetry and architecture of the ancient structures, which display so much purity of style, have not been imitated : and, in deed, it must appear surprising, that, in such a school of architecture, — a school in which M. An gelo, Raphael, Bramanti, Bernini, and Fontana, had an opportunity of studying — so much of a 294 VARIED POPULATION IN THE STREETS. gaudy and trifling character should prevail. The splendid fountains, too, have a similar expression, though the designs sculptured on them are often appropriate, and deserving a better fate than florid and vapouring mannerism. But though the ex cess of enrichment and bad taste are so discernible, it must be allowed, that, upon the whole, there is an imposing splendour in their appearance, which is apt to render us blind to their defects. * These edifices, together with the churches and other buildings, generally line the streets, which are filled with innumerable variety of priests, among whom, the red stocking of the cardinal, and the purple one of the bishop, are far from being rare. Nobility, with their orders at their button-holes ; con victs, in clanking chains ; innumerable mendicants; pilgrims ; open carriages filled with Italian ladies and their cavalieri serventi, the horses taught to tramp and prance, as if they were carrying high and mighty personages ; funeral processions, the dead bodies carried on a bier, with their faces co- * Many palaces might be pointed out in Rome and Florence which, if placed in Edinburgh, would give it an imperial appearance, and convince us that something more is required than the tame and insipid uniformity of some of the principal streets. I do not mean to say that all the houses in these streets should be like palaces, but surely formality might be overcome by tasteful variety. SHOPS DESTRUCTION OF ANCIENT MARBLES. 295 vered, preceded by priests and torches;* processions of chanting priests with the viaticum, or extreme unction, at the sight of which all take off their hats, and bend their knees ; stalls with books and prints ; fellows picking the feathers from wild fowl ; and people frying fish and roasting chestnuts — are all mixed together ; while the eternal tolling of bells, the various cries, together with the lilts of the Calabrian pipers, produce a confusion, which, after curiosity has subsided, is by no means agree able. The shops are mean and inelegant in their ap pearance, resembling open arched coach-houses ; indeed, they are precisely of the same construction, and when the doors are shut, the resemblance is complete. They have few signs ; a bush project ing from a window, is sufficient to indicate where wine or lodgings may be had. The inferior streets are for the most part privileged for the reception of filth, and in them we may perceive collections of marble columns, friezes, cornices, and other frag ments of antiquity, heaped up in various places, to be broken down for lime, or used for inferior pur poses. Thus are consigned to oblivion, as it were, by imperceptible degrees, the character and relics * Lately the dead body of a nobleman fell from the bier «n the pavement, in consequence of one of the supporters slipping his foot. 296 SQUARES. — EXTERIOR OF ST PETER'S. of ancient Rome; proving that in the civilised world, as well as in unhappy Greece, the precious bequests of art are exposed to sacrilegious hands. The squares, with few exceptions, are small ; and the principal one, the Piazza d'Espagna, is without pavement, and not even levelled. The obelisks that adorn the squares are generally crown ed with bronze ornaments, perfectly out of charac ter and proportion. Most of the churches seem to be of the family of St Peter's; the dome and cupola are to be met with every where. The en trance into these churches is shut with large stuffed mats, to keep out the external air ; and from their appearance, and that of many of the miserable squalid-looking wretches that enter there, it does not seem safe to touch them without a glove. The exterior of St Peter's has been so often and so well described, that I shall content myself with remarking, that, considering it was built by differ ent architects,* at different eras, each indulging his own ideas of grandeur, it is surprising that there exists so much apparent unity of design. Bernini's splendid circular colonnade, however, though noble in itself, certainly reduces the digni ty of the principal building, especially when view- " No less than fifteen in number, viz. Roselli, Alberti, Bra- manti, Julian da Sangallo, Jocond, Raphael, Peruzzi, An- thony da Sangallo, Michael Angelo, Vignola, Perro Ligo- rio, James della Porta, Carlo IWadeino, Bernini, Machionni. PANTHEON. 297 ed near the columns. Though St Peter's is intend ed to be an august and mighty pile, the details being in just proportion, are greatly calculated to- deceive, and give the whole structure, when seen at any distance, a diminished appearance. When we advance, however, close upon the edifice, the smallest parts, contrasted with little man, sinks him to nothing ; and the sublime fabric, rising with all the attributes of magnitude, almost overpowers him with the sense of his own insignificance. The Pantheon, the portal of which " shines inimitable on earth," is the only building that I would compare with St Peter's : — there are, in deed, many large structures in Rome ; but its dignified appearance, as a whole, with its dark and dusky vestment of time, speaks so emphatically to the mind, as to command an unqualified ad miration.* Canova has added to his immortal name, by adorning the interior of this noble an cient temple with many busts of the greatest painters, poets, and architects. In several parts of modern Rome, we tread on the same pavement which was trodden by the ancient Romans, and this is formed of large square blocks of lava, which * The portico, 90 feet in breadth, consists of three rows of columns, the front row having eight, and the second and third four each ; and what is very remarkable, there is a consider able variation in the dimensions of the columns, from four feet nine inches, to five feet eight tenths of an inch. 298 PANTHEON. appear to have been intended to last for ever. We have occasionally recognised, too, ancient sarco phagi, now used as cisterns for horses, and many very beautiful remains of sculpture built in the walls. The finest have been transferred to Cano- va's studio, and consist of figures, heads, friezes, and other interesting fragments, such as you would covet ; but none of them are superior to that of Severus and Julia in the Netherbow of Edinburgh, which is unaccountably allowed to remain where it might be injured by frost and other causes. LETTER XXV. ROME. The Ruins by Moonlight — Column of Trajan. — Temples of Neroa, Pallas, and Peace. — Coliseum, and Ruins in the ancient Forum. 1 he evenings here are often so extremely beauti ful, that we have occasionally been tempted to vi sit the magnificent antiquities by moonlight. The column of Trajan, that glorious memorial of Ro man dignity, apppeared, when viewed thus, to great advantage. The contrast of the light of the passing flambeauxs, glowing on the enriched base ment, while the beautiful embossed shaft reflected the sflver moon, had an effect indescribably fine. Part of the sculpture was distinctly seen, whfle other parts, as time obliterates names and facts, were lost in oblivion. From various situations, the co lumn was opposed to dark and shaded buildings, which gave it a point and character, and reminded us of the diamond on the sable hair of beauty. The temples of Nerva and Pallas were greatly im proved by Cynthia's beams ; and the shadows and fine touches of light upon the entablature and co lumns, — the mysterious and solemn aspect of the 800 COLISEUM. whole, — united, in one sentiment, the past and the present, and impressed us with a deep, yet pleas ing melancholy. The Temple of Peace was im pressive in the silence of night. As we approached the Coliseum, the moon point ed out innumerable columns of marble and granite, some of them entire, and others broken by brutal violence. When we entered the Coliseum itself, the moon was in full splendour ; but, in attempting to describe this mighty work, I feel how utterly in adequate my powers are to my subject. The innu merable open arches, with the moon beams shining through them, were like the eyes of past ages look ing upon us. The very masses of huge square blocks, though inconsiderable accessories, were in their effect extremely grand ; we could only move, with out inquiring why we were impressed with such solemn awe. We walked by the pale beams through all the witchery of the place ; silence and uncer tainty prevailed ; and a single drop of water, falling from a vaulted roof, was heard at a great distance. We ascended the first and second corridors, where successive generations of Romans, from the emperor to the meanest slave, had crowded to witness the mutual butchery of gladiators, and the conflicts of human beings with furious wild beasts. Some times we wandered in the dark ; at other times we were led by the glimmering light of scattered moon beams seen from afar, and casting shadows which COLISEUM. 801 appeared like the phantoms of the departed. As we advanced, the light became stronger, and we perceived that we were yet among the living, — a circumstance which mystery, uncertainty, and the impression of ancient times, had made us almost forget. Ascending higher among the ruins, we took our station where the whole magnitude of the CoUseum was visible : what a fulness of mind the first glance excited ! yet how inexpressible at the same time were our feelings ! The awful silence of this dread ruin still appealed to our hearts. The single sentinel's tread, and the ticking of our watches, were the only sounds we heard, while the moon was marching in the vault of night, and the stars were peeping through the various openings ; the shadows of the flying clouds being all that reminded us of motion and of life. We were tempted to exclaim : Where are the five thousand wUd beasts that tore each other to pieces, on the day on which this mighty pile was opened ? Silent now are those unnatural shouts of applause called forth by the murderous fights of the gladiators; — what a contrast to this death of sound ! On taking our last look, and giving our farewell sighs to the night, the grand effect of the whole was striking to the last degree. While one part was in shadow against the light of the sky, other parts were mingled in the deepened indigo, and seemed as it were blended with the heavens, — 502 RUINS IN THE FORUM. strongly reminding us, while we looked at the Cross below, of the connection between this and another world. The triumphal arches, the remains of palaces and temples, addressing the mind through every stain and every dye of crumbling and dejected ruin, their last shadows recalling to our contempla tion Roman glory, Roman honour, Roman virtue, Roman genius, Roman cruelty and folly, formed a spectacle that spoke to the heart, and bade the eye obey its sad emotion. Objects often derive a character from the state of mind in which they are viewed. While we stood in the ancient Roman Forum, with the Capitol before us, the beauteous moon seemed doubly interesting ; and while we contrasted her with the affecting edifices around, she and her train of stars appeared like tears in the scutcheon of Roman grandeur. LETTER XXVI. ROME. The Borghese Collection of Paintings. 1 he Borghese coUection of paintings ranks a- mong the first in Rome. The principal pictures are those by Raphael, Titian, Domenichino, Paul Veronese, Parmagiano, JuUo Romano, A. Caracci, M." Angelo, Caravaggio, Garoffalo, Albano, &c. In the first of the suite of rooms there are few good paintings; St Catherine, by Parmagiano, is among the best ; her right hand is placed upon her breast, displaying a set of fingers certainly out of aU nature in point of length ; had they been sculptured in marble, I should have thought it no crime to have snapped off at least an inch of each. With all its mannerism, however, it is a good picture. Domenichino. In the second room is the celebrated Chace of Diana by Domenichino ; deservedly a favourite, both with the learned and unlearned. The silvery brilUancy and clearness of colouring is very fas cinating. Daylight is finely represented, the 304 borghese paintings. shadows, and the various reflections from illumi nated objects, have never been more justly and deli cately expressed. The Goddess appears among her nymphs, proclaiming the prize of a bow and quiver, to be won by one of her train, who has killed a bird by shooting it through the head while flying. The bow of the fortunate nymph is still in her hand, and she remains in the attitude of pulling the string. A nymph sporting in the wa ter, is quite a piece of deception in point of nature ; some of the other females, however, appear to want dignity, the one especially who has discovered two intruding males peeping through a thicket at their harmless pastime. Perhaps there may likewise be too much of a family likeness in all the faces, which would have been more agreeable, had they been of a higher description of beauty, as the nymphs of Diana certainly were well entitled to be. I could have wished, too, that the numerous legs and arms had been less perceptible, and better composed. M. Angelo Caravaggio. A picture of the Virgin and Christ tread ing on the head of a Serpent. Christ is represented as a boy from eight to ten years of age, and seems to be much afraid, from the man ner in which he puts his foot upon the serpent. This surely betrays an error in judgment in the is borghese paintings. 305 painter. The figure of Christ, too, has all the vul garity of common and ill chosen nature; and, indeed, the Virgin herself cannot boast of much of the beau ideal ; her figure and expression do not corre spond with our idea of exalted mental simplicity. We cannot admit a common and every-day-looking person, of low condition, to be contrasted with the image which veneration and devotion has formed in our minds of the Virgin Mary. The face, nevertheless, is natural, and admirably painted. To the right of the picture appears an old wrinkled female, who conveys no idea of any kind except wretchedness and stupidity. Caravaggio's light and shade, and broad and masterly effect, would have better suited a nobler style of beauty than is perceptible throughout this picture. His mind must have been but indifferently stored with ideas of well selected nature, on broad and liberal views. Indeed, it would appear that he seldom painted without his living model, and it is to be regretted that his choice was often bad ; the more so, as he had not the talent like Guido to conjure up ideas of deUcacy and grace, while he studied from uncouth forms. In the same room there is a good picture by Bonifacio, something in Titian's manner ; like wise several heads by Annibal Caracci, especial ly one of St Francis in a broad and noble style, finely coloured and pencilled with captivating free- vol. i. u 306 borghese paintings, dom. Some landscapes, composed in the style of Caracci, are worthy of an extended notice. Blue, however, predominates too much in them through out, which makes them look cold and comfortless. Without a proper contrast of warm or rich colours opposed to cold ones, a landscape will rarely be pleasing to the eye ; but with a happy mixture of these, the extremes of either may be given with great effect. Cigoli's St Francis, in the same apart ment, may illustrate this remark. The rich brown drapery of the saint is in most agreeable harmony with the cool greys in the back-ground. There is also a picture by Annibal Carraci, in the manner of Coreggio, very good. Boraccio's Burning of Troy, of which there is an etching, is but a vapid picture, though the draw ing is good, and the colouring pleasing. A few smart and powerful touches of light and shade would have corrected the [prevailing monotony; perhaps, too, a few indications of more vivid colouring might have been agreeable. Continuing our tour through the suite of rooms, we found in an adjoining apartment a beautiful little picture by Paul Veronese; the subject, St Anthony addressing the Fishes. I could have wished, however, that the attitude of the Saint had been more appropriate ; he bends in a circular or curved manner, with a great stalk of white lilies in his hand, as if the weight of them were likely to make borghese paintings. 307 him lose bis balance. The fishes, with their heads above water, are at such a distance, that I should think they have little chance of being benefited by his discourse. These, perhaps, are the defects of the picture. The figures which are to the right of St Anthony are exquisitely painted, and the scar let and red drapery is a most judicious harmony to the cool green sea. It does not appear that Paul Veronese has used any strong glazing co lours in this picture, except upon the water ; yet it is not wanting in mellow richness. The sky, with some flesh-coloured streaks, seemed at first a little too green, but it improved upon the eye, and perhaps such a tone was necessary to take up the prevaiUng colour of the sea beneath. The effect of the whole, notwithstanding this artifice, is agreeable and natural, but it is not of an ele vated character. The merit of the picture chiefly consists in its faciUty of pencilling. The great composition by Lanfranc of a Giant laying his rude hand on a Defenceless Female, who is coining out of a cave with a sheep's skin upon her, is certainly a magnificent picture in many re spects, but the subject is so revolting, that I had little pleasure in studying it. St John, by Paul Veronese, is a curious painting, full of exqui site parts and considerable defects. The hand and arm of St John is stiff and disagreeable, nay absolutely bad. But the colouring compen- 308 borghese paintings. sates, as far as colouring can, for its errors ; at least it produces a very forgiving and grateful feeling in the mind, which, when the eye settles up on the delightful harmony, will not readily return to gaze on faults. To the right of St John is a group of figures, and so perfect in effect of colour, that I cannot forbear mentioning the arrangement, though I am persuaded it can give no precise idea of the magical effect in the picture ;- — so much depends upon the management of those subordinate parts by which the principal masses of colour are united, and of which it is impossible for me to convey any idea by words. One of the figures, (the far thest back,) in a Turkish looking dress, has a low- toned colour of face, in shadow, with a pur plish-coloured cap ; next to this figure appears one with a very dark countenance, with a black flowing beard, a whitish yellow turban, striped with dusky orange or gold ; on his shoulder is a shawl, which appears to be twisted, and partly falls below, of the same pattern as the turban ; un der this is a green pelisse. The third opposing figure has a pink turban, with an orange top, and a yellow Spanish-looking dress ; the opening of the sleeves are white, and a bluish grey shawl is thrown partly over the shoulder. In the back ground, to the left, are some small figures done in a very light and sketchy style, but full of grace and beauty, (especially the female,) and greatly borghese paintings. 309 reminded me of some of the works of our excellent artist Mr Stodhert. Julio Romano's copy of St John, after Raphael, the same as that in the Royal Gallery of Florence. The figure of St John is well drawn, and finely painted ; a copy by such a master is really little inferior to the original ; the spirit of the picture is well sustained, and there is no hesitating or awkward painting, indicating a want of knowledge or proper feeling. In the same room are Two Apostles, painted on gilded back-grounds, said to be by Michael Angelo. They do not appear very like his works ; but the custodi, when he heard me doubt, insisted that they were by his hand, and exclaimed, Certo ! Securamente, Signore ! Never theless, I still kept doubting, and do to this day, notwithstanding such good authority. Raphael, A small Portrait of Himself, at the age of 13, and painted by himself. It is by no means bad. The colouring and effect are excellent, but of course there is a certain hesitation of pencil, which might be expected, even in a genius like Ra phael's, at so early an age. Titian. A Family Piece, as it is called, said to be by Titian, something in the style of Teniers ; a female 310 BORGHESE PAINTINGS. appears in bed, aiid on the fore-ground a woman is giving suck to a child. The colouring and texture are excellent ; but I regretted to see that the ful ness and breadth of rich colouring on this work were ill bestowed on a subject otherwise familiar in itself. It seemed as if Titian, if ever it pro ceeded from his hand, had been attempting a sub ject more properly belonging to the Dutch school. The Dutch and Flemish masters have un doubtedly discovered that mode of pencilling and finish, which seem to be best adapted for familiar subjects, and I question whether a more elevated style would suit so well. A certain neatness and care appears indispensable, and is, indeed, one of the principal fascinations in the works of the in^ ferior schools. Dossi Dosso. A picture representing an Enchantress with her spells ; there is a certain grandeur and myste- riousair in this paintingwhich immediatelyimpresses the mind. The style is not unlike that of Titian, and the landscape back-ground, which is beautifully varied with wood and buildings, is in many respects worthy of the genius of that illustrious man. Sebastian Del Piombo. The Scourging of Christ, a small picture, said to be sketched by Michael Angelo, and finished BORGHESE PAINTINGS. 311 by Sebastian del Piombo, being the original design for the celebrated picture in the church of St Pietro Montorio. The effect is good, and the anatomy and fine detail in the breast and shoulder are quite inimitable ; but the legs of the figures are confused, and it requires some time to know to which figure they respectively belong. Raphael. The Deposition of Christ in this master's second manner. This picture is remarkable for expression, and pleasing harmony of colour ; the date, in letters of gold, is M.D. VII. Even the most celebrated painters have found it difficult to arrange the limbs of the figures, or compose them in such a way as to be agreeable to the eye. In this picture there is a want of harmony among the lines, which is the more noticeable in a work of Raphael's ; no painter having studied the refine ment of composition more than that great master. Domenichino. A Sybil ; expressive of inspired and dignified beauty; her eyes, looking up to heaven, beam with intelligence. She leans on a book with a scroll of music in her hand, and the exquisite de licacy of colour and effect gives additional delight at every time we return to view this captivating picture. It is "all perfection, even to the hands, 312 BORGHESE PAINTINGS. which are formed to excite even a poet's admi ration, though he had been dreaming of celestial beauty. Albano. There are four good pictures by this master, representing the Toilet of Venus. The Goddess sporting with Cupids; Venus disarming Cupid; and Venus and Adonis. The back-grounds, which are well painted, are all too dark, and make the figures appear detached from the general com- position. Teniers. A small sketchy picture by that master. Two small pictures, painted on black polished stone, and highly finished, something in the style of A. Caracci. The effect is by no means pleasing, and we cannot divest ourselves of the idea of marble, which the artist has failed to .combine as a harmonious and constituent part of his picture. The idea that this device was intended to save la bour, is of itself sufficient to create a prejudice against the pictures. The one is a Deposjtion of Christ, and the other a Resurrection of Lazarus. Titian. The Woman taken in Adultery. This is a borghese paintings. 813 fine picture ; the colouring and the general effect is harmonious and pleasing ; but it was hung too high to permit any examination of the detail. Paul Veronese. A Venus and Cupid, and a monkey-looking Satyr. The Venus and Adonis, by the same master, is badly composed, and, in point of senti ment, it is reprehensible. This is the less to be ex cused in Paul Veronese, whose pencil could so weU pourtray the most deUcate and attractive ex pression of character. Titian. Return of the Prodigal Son. A splendid picture, broad and masterly, the colours absolutely appear to be beaming with brilliancy ; the figures, though separated from each other, do not seem detached, but by ingenious contrivances, are com bined into one pleasing whole. Benvenuto Gorofalo. The works of this master always display a re fined taste and correct design ; the little luminous picture from his pencU in this palace is a favourite with all, and is indeed a most successful specimen. Raphael. Portrait of the Duke of Valintin, in his usual 314 BORGHESE PAINTINGS. style of excellence ; a portrait of a Cardinal, but not so good ; it is somewhat vapid and spiritless. Titian. Sacred and Profane Love, being two female figures sitting on the edge of a fountain, which is or namented with bas relief. Cupid appears to be play ing with his hand in the water; the back-giound consists of trees and buildings, admirably painted and well designed. One of the figures, which is extremely beautiful, is partly naked, the other is clothed ; both have a modest and interesting ap pearance, and seem not to be expressive of the name given to the picture : indeed, I am at a loss to know in what respect the name applies. The figure, which is partly nude, has red drapery over the left shoulder, and white drapery before. The clothed figure is in white, with red sleeves and gloves, and in her right hand she holds a flower. Both seemed to me to be portraits of the same per son. As a piece of colouring the picture is faultless, but I could wish the story had been more intel- Titian. Venus Blinding Cupid. It is impossible to con ceive a more lovely piece of colouring. The flesh has that characteristic truth, which excites an involuntary feeling of surprise. The Cupid lean- BORGHESE PAINTINGS. 315 ing upon tlie shoulder of Venus is truly matchless, so beautifully rounded, so delicate and natural, that Titian seems here to have eclipsed himself. The peachy-looking softness, the fresh pearly ten derness of those tones which escape a common eye, impress themselves upon the mind, and when we look at nature after the examination of such a pic ture, we descry beauties which we had never looked for, nor observed before. The counte nance of Venus, however, is not very bewitching, and the perpendicular dark line to her left, will not please every eye, though it is contrived, no doubt, to destroy monotony, and produce a poig nancy of effect. The drapery of Venus is some what slight and unfinished, but the toute ensemble positively commands our silence, and forbids our notice of trifling faults. Francisco Bassan. An Adoration of the Magi, painted in a free and masterly manner, and not unlike a picture by Paul Veronese ; the colouring is good, and no vul garity except in some trifling details. Had Bassan painted less, and studied more, he would have been a shining ornament in art ; indeed, this picture is a fine example of his powerful talent. Andrea del Sarto. The Virgin Mary, Christ, and St John ; by 316 borghese paintings. no means a good picture ; mannered, and with something of the affectation of Goltizius. Room of Vernet's Landscapes. These landscapes are all of an upright shape, painted on canvas, and fixed in the wall. The pencilling is free, but not referable to nature, and the compositions may be said to be absolutely bad. They are early pictures, and the shape of the pannels on which they are fixed (being four times at least the height of their breadth) is much against judicious arrangement. In one of the rooms, too, we observed a number of mirrors painted by Cerofari, representing Cupids playing among flowers : very seldom does colouring look brilliant upon. glass; the reflection generally over powers the colours, unless, at the same time, it re flects a deep and solemn shade. It is almost im possible, too, to divest one's self of the idea, that the painting, however good, is intended to hide the joinings of the glass. The Borghese collection contains at least 400 or 500 pictures, but several of them are indif ferent. I have mentioned what I consider the best, though there are many others certainly well deserving of particular notice. Many of them are taken down and placed upon the floor, as it is the intention of the Prince Borghese to have a new arrangement. The famous statue of The Herma- STATUES. 317 phrodite is in this palace, and I think eclipses the one in the Gallery at Florence. The statue of the Princess Pauline, as a reclining Venus, is not exhibited. The busts in porphyry are gene rally well executed, but certainly not so pleasing to the eye as marble. LETTER XXVII. ROME. Ruins qf Rome. — Their interest to the Antiquarian and Painter. — The use made of them by the old Masters. — The profusion qf materials and facilities for composition, pointed out by Claude, Poussin, and Domenichino. — Con duct qfthe modern Artists State of the Arts in Rome.-— — The example qfthe British Painters may tend to the resuscitation qf Italian Art. — Sculpture. — Remarks on Ca nova' sand Thorwaldson's works ; a comparison between them. — Appearance of their Studios. — Gem and Copperplate Engraving. — Stale qf Architecture. — Hints to planting in Edinburgh. 1 here are few ruins in the world more interest ing than those of ancient Rome ; though it must be admitted that we meet with some which are only shapeless masses composed of brick. Inde pendent of the historical and classical associations connected with these noble remains of Roman grandeur, they derive a powerful interest, from being recognized as the principal features in several of the compositions of the greatest landscape paint ers. The Temples of Concord, of Vesta, of the Sun, and the Sybil at Tivoli, the Coliseum, the triumphal arches, the magnificent mausoleums of Hadrian, Caius Cestus, and Cecilia Metella, and RUINS ADOPTED BY THE OLD MASTERS. 319 the splendid columns and aqueducts, have all been pourtrayed by the immortal pencils of Claude, Domenichino, and Niccolo Poussin. The remains, too, of the tombs on the Appian way, the bridges and towers on the Campagna, have attracted the genius of Both, * Wilson, and many other celebrat ed painters. Nothing, surely, can be more instructing to the man of taste and feehng, than to see how these great men have treated the various interest ing objects which surrounded them, not only in- dividuaUy, but as parts in their beautiful and magnificent compositions. The very idea of studying from the same objects which have, as it were, inspired those mighty geniuses, is of itself sufficient to kindle the highest feeling for the beauties of nature and of art. Claude, Poussin, and Domenichino, however, have not confined themselves exclusively to the study of the ancient edifices ; but have occasionally introduced in their pictures several of the more modern structures. The buUdings of the Vatican, the palace of the Medici and Farnese, together with many of the subordinate buildings, have been introduced in some of their finest compositions. Rome, indeed, * The beautiful cabinet picture, belonging to James Russell, Esq. of Edinburgh, by J. Both, is composed from a tomb on the Appian way. 320 NEGLECTED BY MODERN ARTISTS. with the adjacent country, offers, to a man of talent and discernment, materials for the noblest landscape composition. The marbles in the Vatican, the Capitol, the private palaces, and public gardens, are all ac cessible, and may furnish the student with every accessory that can suitably combine with his selection of architecture. The country, too, with its inimitable train of accompaniments, unites in suggesting pictures of a high and classical character, — ever varying, ever new. The mode of study followed by the ancient landscape paint ers is so obvious, and so distinctly pointed out by the country, and the various objects of en richment to which their works constantly refer, that it appears very surprising that the modern landscape painters of Rome should have so far de generated from these great standards. Why they have rejected a style so noble, comprehensive, and improving, in the midst of such august profusion, for one so diametrically opposite, — so narrow, and comparatively contemptible in its scope, — remains a problem which will not be easily solved. The ancient painters, as well as the modern, made faithful drawings from nature ; but they sel dom considered a simple study or part of a scene as a proper subject for a picture ; and rarely, indeed, confined themselves to a mere view. They rang ed through nature and art in general, for the ele- STATE OF THE ARTS IN ROME. 321 ments of their composition ; and, accordingly, we find the mausoleum of Hadrian, or the buildings of the Vatican, combined with hUls, lofty trees, and winding waters, amidst which are introduced fi gures and groupes of classical allusion. In the works of Domenichino and Annibal Caracci may be seen the tomb or pyramid of Caius Cestus, and other edifices, addressing the mind in scenes that awaken dreams of the past, and attune the soul to tender melancholy. The palaces and other buildings of Rome are placed by the immortal Claude among shipping, and embellished and rendered interesting by the landing of a saint or a queen, while the sun, rising among the splendid edifices, reflects on the gently undulating waves, and glows on the robes of regal grandeur. And how often do we meet in his works with thebeautifultempleof Vesta, orof the Sybil, gra cing the most romantic scenery ! Who would pre fer the local or even extensive views of nature, which, at best, can only suggest a beautiful or mag nificent portrait of a country, to those combinations which speak so eloquently to the soul, and exhibit in their arrangement such profound knowledge and skill? Yet true it is, that the Roman landscape-paint ers, and even the Germans who come hither to study, generally employ themselves in painting some ill chosen scene; and their taste is so far from being refined by the noble objects amongst which they re- VOL. I. x 322 ROMAN PAINTERS INFERIOR TO BRITISH. side, and the great models which the ancients have left, that the defects of the subject are studied with the same ignorant perseverance, as those parts which are most beautiful and interesting. In landscape composition, we in vain look among the Romans for any one to rival a Turner, a Callcot, or a Thomson. The representation of familiar and rustic life, in which Wilkie rises so far above all comparison or competition,- is to the Roman painters absolutely unknown-* In portrait-painting, which of them can compare with a Lawrence, a Raeburn, or a Geddes ? t Or in miniature, with a Saunders or a Thom son? t In the department of history, Camuccini has certainly great merit ; his drawing is good, and his taste is pure; but in his works we look in vain for that depth of thought, that originality of conception, chiaro oscuro, vigour and power of colouring, which give, so interesting and exalted a * I am sorry to hear of the death of Mr Graham, Master of the Academy in Edinburgh, by whom Mr Wilkie, and some other eminent artists, were instructed in drawing. A report has reached us, however, that Mr Graham is to be suc ceeded by that excellent painter, Mr Andrew Wilson, who is well qualified to support the credit of the Academy. f In every thing necessary to form a perfect cabinet pic ture, Mr Geddes is unrivalled among British artists. J Mr William Thomson of Edinburgh. "VoLtPay* 323 . Sbsbttshi wm.wm if sob §__.w__e. ®_r IS.a_p_e__je__ . a. it i. E_iiliil . . L in. fh. AcacLcjnT" of SJI.U— _: in Rome . t!l,«.ii,_. __„¦ ILLE H IC EST RAPHAEL TIMVIT QVO SOSPITE VINCI RERVM MAGNA PARENS ET MORIENTE MORI ROMAN PAINTERS INFERIOR TO BRITISH. 823 character to the paintings of West, Haydon, and others of our British artists. In the beautiful art of painting in water colours, Britain stands supreme, or rather, she may be said to have appropriated it exclusively. The meagre- ness of style of the modern artists of Rome, in that department, and their total want of ingenuity in expressing the texture and characteristic detail of various objects, independent of their want of knowledge of colouring and effect, is not a little surprising, especially when we consider their op portunities and encouragement. Their pencil sketches, however, abating a little mannerism, are extremely beautiful. To the works of the students in the academies, the same observations may be applied, which I have made on those of Parma, Bologna, and Florence. And although, in the Academy of St Luke's, they have, had the privUege of drawing their pencils over the scull of Raphael, which is exhibited there, and of which I send you a little sketch, their works, dry and lifeless as the scull itself, show not one particle of the genius which resided once within that " palace of the soul." From the state of the art of painting in Italy, and, indeed, I may say on the continent in general, it has little chance of being revived, except by the example of the modern British painters. Were the Italians so fortunate as to have such eminent 824s ROMAN PAINTERS INFERIOR TO BRITISH. men, residing among them, as Sir Thomas Law rence, Mr Turner, or Mr Wilkie, it cannot be doubted, that the effects of thek example would powerfully tend to resuscitate that divine art, to ¦which Italy, from the illustrious masters which it once possessed, still owes the main part of its interest and importance. * It is, indeed, no small proof of the fascination which the great imasters of former times imparted to this seat of the arts, which their talents rendered so pre-emi nent, that, even in the present degraded state to which they are sunk, the name of Italy is so in separably interwoven with whatever is worthy of attention in the art of painting, that the wealth expended for the productions, poor as they are, of its present school, would be sufficient, if bestow ed on the same arts in Britain, to give them the support which alone is required to raise them to the same eminence, that couferred splendour on the ;fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. So inferior in the various departments of paint- * The British artists who lately made a copy of the Transfi guration, by Raphael, and the St Jerome, by Domenichino, excited a great sensation among the Roman artists ; as like wise did the celebrated Mr Geddes of Edinburgh, in copying a picture of the Venetian school in the Gallery of the Louvre— his process being quite upon the principle of the Venetian mode of colouring. ROMAN SCULPTORS SUPERIOR TO BRITrSH. S°25 ing is the modern Italian school to that of Britain, notwithstanding the many seeming disadvantages of the latter. These very disadvantages, however, I am incUned to think, by engaging our artists in the study of nature, and the exercise of their own minds, are favourable to the developement of genius, and lead them on in the same career of im provement, by which the ancient masters advanced to their unrivalled eminence. In sculpture, however, we are inferior to the Italians. We have not a Canova or Thorwaldson. Chauntry and Flaxman, it is true, are treading fast upon their heels; but, comparing their works al together, their statues, basso relievos, animals, busts, and monumental works, the Italian sculptors, upon the whole, certainly have the advantage, espe cially in nature and delicacy of finishing. In their monumental works, in particular, there is less of that bulky or gross appearance, which we find in sculp ture of that description in Britain. The statues of EngUsh workmanship, in St Paul's and West minster Abbey, would appear heavy, unwieldy, and inelegant, contrasted with the modern statues by Canova and Thorwaldson which may be seen in Rome. Many of their works are purchased by the British nobility, but to form an accurate judgment of the talent of these great artists, their various productions should be seen, and not those in one department only. 326 canova's sculpture. In offering an opinion of Canova's statues, I would say, that his principal fault seems to be, in troducing familiar nature in subjects which. should have the elevation of ideal beauty. In two. of his Muses, for instance, which he has lately finished, we think we can trace the likeness of persons whom we have seen and know; in short,; they have too much of the appearance of portraits, which certainly diminishes the interest, as far as , they are intended to represent beings of a higher order ; there is sometimes, too, the appearance of affec tation in his style. In his celebrated group of the Graces, delicacy seems to be carried too far, and almost amounts to insipid childish ness, especially in the manner in which the figure on the right presses the head of the figure in the centre. It is delicacy, no doubt ; but of a very silly kind. Canova chiefly excels in fe male characters, youthful figures, and children, H[is men are often heavy, and even somewhat clumsy. His Venus and Adonis, however ; his Cupid and Psyche ; his Magdalene, which conveys the idea of sincere repentance ; the Family of Santa Cruz at the death-bed of their child, remarkable for the expression of grief and holy resignation : these, with many more of his works, stamp him as a man of great refinement of taste and feeling, Canova has not, however, sue- canova's sculpture. 327 ceeded so well in his figure of Religion, * in which expression of the highest order of beauty, united with parental kindness, was required. The figure is bulky, and the countenance is neither winning nor attractive: the mouth being open, and the eyes turned up and fixed, produces a livid, ghastly, and forbidding aspect; — surely very unlike what the figure of ReUgion ought to be. The pikes, too, projecting from her head, intended to express celestial rays of glory, have an alarming appear ance to an approaching sinner. On the opposite side of the tomb is a figure of Fame, extreme ly beautiful, but perhaps the beau ideal may be ra ther too refined. Clement XIII. himself, above all, kneeling on a cushion on the sarcophagi, is admirable in every respect, and the lions at jthe bottom of the tomb are quite inimitable. The whole monument, indeed, is an exquisite work of art. It has its faults, no doubt, — but what is per fect? To give any idea of the variety of sculpture in Canova's Studio would require a volume, each subject being weU entitled to particular descrip tion. I may, however, give you at least the names of a few. Mars and Venus, for the Prince Re gent, is certainly an excellent performance. Mars is represented as a powerful youth with a helmet ; * On the Monument of Clement XIII. in St Peter's, 328 canova's sculpture. Venus reclines upon his shoulder, and is really a chaste and lovely figure. The God of War, indeed, appears to be perfectly conscious of her charms ; it were to be wished, however, that he had not quite so dandy-like an appearance ; his body is certainly too much bent for the line of grace. As a flattering compliment, the Prince's portrait is placed upon the shield of Mars. Some of Canova's Dancing Figures are light and pretty, though it must be said they approach very near the meretricious action of opera nymphs. His last Venus is more like the Venus of Medicis than his former in the Palazzo Pitti ; but there is an appearance above her breasts, as if she had worn stays. Hebe is light as air: Ajax is a clumsy figure : and Paris seems too short and heavy ; nevertheless, this is an admirable statue. A colossal statue of Napoleon as Victory, is very -__agnifiee_it : this statue goes to the Duke of Wellington. A reclining Venus, for the Prince Regent, is an exquisite piece of art. Hector, as he ought to be, is a fierce-looking fellow. The seus and the Centaur, colossal, will command admiration, though there appears a want of har mony in the leading lines. Maria Louisa, and Madam Mere, are in excellent taste. The nume rous busts of people of all nations are full of charac ter ; yet not superior in that respect to many that I have seen by Chauntry. Canova's basso relievos rank thorwaldson's sculpture. 329 high in ait, though they have not contributed greatly to his fame. His drawings in chalk are beautiful and carefully executed, but he should never attempt to paint in oU. A picture which he exhibits in his private room is a vapid and poor performance. Thorwaldson's Studio does not offer such a splen did display of statues as that of Canova's ; but the man of taste wdl find quite enough to con vince him that to this great artist Canova is the only rival. Priam supporting the Body of his Son, — Briseis led from the Tent of Achil les, — Jason, — Ajax, — Adonis, and Mars, are aU noble works ; but certainly not finished with such exquisite delicacy as the statues by Canova. Psyche, Bacchus, and Cupid, his alle gorical representation of Night, his friezes, espe cially of the Triumph of Alexander, and other works, are all of transcendent merit. The most of this sculpture is going to England, chiefly for the Duke of Bedford, Lord Lucan, Mr Hope, and Mr Devett. For an accurate knowledge of the beau ideal, or the perfection of nature, whichever you please to caU it, united with a keen discii-* minating eye for the beauties of the antique, yet still preserving originality, Thorwaldson, especially in his basso-relievos, is superior to Canova, who sometimes appears to copy himself. In examining the works of the fonner, the mind is led to ancient 330 studios of canova and thorwaldson. days of greatness, and seems to catch a portion of that sacred light, which sprung from the genius of Phidias, Praxiteles, and Cleomenes; the latter, on the other hand, presents to you the choicest views of nature, with less acquired knowledge from ancient sources, and perhaps with less refinement of sentiment aud delicacy. The studios, as they are called in Rome, of Canova and Thorwaldson, are ranges of work-shops, filled with various statues in a state of progress ; and it is curious to observe what common-looking workmen are employed in blocking out the figure from the mpdel, till it is advanced to that state when Canova himself takes it into his hands to finish. It is so dif ficult to judge of a block of marble, whether it will be free of specks or blemishes, that it often hap pens that two or three blocks are begun upon and l^,id aside as unfit for use, after the figure is con siderably advanced. The Graces, for the Prince Regent, have a few dark specks, which were not perceived till they were nearly finished ; they cer tainly do not injure the pure effect of the figures ; but as the Prince Regent was desirous to have them without a spot, the great artist informed us, that he would willingly give 200 or 300 sequins for the removal of each. The sum given to Ca nova for the group of the Graces is 3000 guineas. The gem engravers of Rome, I think, are much upon a level with our own artists in that way; Pick- architecture OF ROME. 331 ler is at the head of them The engravers on copper are very far behind the British engravers, both in the historical, scriptural, and landscape depart ments. That beautiful style of engraving, for the embeUishment of books, is quite unknown in Italy; and I should suppose, from any thing I have seen on the continent, excepting the works of Morghen, that in copperplate engraving we stand unrivalled.* I can offer few remarks on the Roman architec ture of the present day ; for it is a very curious fact, that, in all the cities which we have visited in Italy, we have not seen any building going forward, except a gate at Florence, and one house in the Piazza del Popolo in this city. The architectural drawings, however, which are exhibited in the va rious academies, are not without talent, and oc casionally exhibit a little Grecian purity. The Doric and Corinthian orders seem to be the fa- • I have lately been much surprised and delighted with a few engravings of portraits, done by Mr Nicholson, painter in Edinburgh. That ingenious gentleman has done more in that difficult art, in a. short time, than any other person ; in deed, when I examine the portrait of Mr Raeburn, and reflect that it is his third or fourth attempt, I confess my astonish ment has no bounds ; it is full of principle, with the happy effect of concealing the mode of execution, while it presents the excellence of the likeness ; and here I am happy to offer my tribute of praise to Mr Nicholson, as an artist of great ability in portrait-painting, in oil and water colours. 332 architecture. vourite.i* This backwardness in bftMiiSg may be supposed to be injurious to the study of practical * It is sincerely to be wished, that this were the case in Edinburgh, instead of the rage which displays itself for the Gothic, a style of building seldom referable to good taste. It is likewise to be! wished, that there were a combination of trees, with the various streets and buildings, as we have found in many of the beautiful cities abroad. How it is, I know not, but our leading people seem to have a dislike to this beauti ful accompanime.it to' a fine city. It was a cruel deed to cut down the semicircle of trees, immediately below the New. Town, from Canonmills to the Mound which crosses the meadow from Dundas Street. I am sure no man of taste was consulted on that occasion. I might mention many other in stances of such thoughtless. proceeding, were I at all disposed to complain. Towns often owe a great part of their popula tion to their situation and beauty ; and were the latter pro perly considered and extended, it might be a means of in creasing the number of inhabitants, and bringing additional wealth to the city. Let us hope, therefore, that, before any length of time is elapsed, the whole of tbe ground between the Old Town and Prince's Street, and the Earthen Mound itself, may be beautified with walks and plantations. The ground, too, between Queen Street and Heriot Row, so much the subject of conversation and reproach, is positively offensive to stran gers and people of taste. With regard to the first of these, the varied ground affords an opportunity of placing groups of trees, for combining with ef fect with the surrounding buildings ; and I doubt not, but, in the hands of a man of genius, that small portion of ground might be so laid out, as to add inconceivably to the importance of Edinburgh, in general, in a picturesque point of view; and-to architecture. 333 architecture ; but as architecture forms a part of the education of an Italian painter, I should sup pose, that, though it may languish for a time, it may be very soon revived. convert many of the houses, which, at present, are not only des titute of all interest in the scene, but positively disgusting, into pleasingobjects, from the interest which they would derive. Were the grounds laid out as nursery ground and flower gardens, t^ey, no doubt, would be more pleasing than in their present disor derly condition, which nothing but habit can possibly prevent us from viewing as a nuisance ; but the open unfinished ar rangement of such gardens would do little more than merely veneer the surface of the earth. In order to accomplish the desired object, trees should be planted in simple abundance, of such a nature as in time to reach the stateliest growth, for shrubs and trees of small magnitude can have no effect in the valley which separates the Old from the New Town. Were the bottom of the valley reserved for walks, interspersed with shrubbery, gradually rising, on each band, to forest trees judi ciously varied to suit tbe romantic and other buildings, two ob jects would be obtained, — a commanding depth of light and shadow in the hollow, and a substitution of neatness tor what is now offensive. A similar mode of treatment might be ap plied to the ground which slopes from Queen Street; such, in deed, as has already taken place at the eastern end. We have reason to be grateful for the liberal provision made for the inhabitants in the beautiful walks in the Meadows, and let us hope that the same spirit which directed the public proceed ings of the city at that time, may revive in ours, and convert into splendid beauty, open and free to the use of the public, what is now in itself a gross deformity. LETTER XXVIII. ROME. Pictures in the Gallery of the Vatican. — Michael Angelo's Fresco Painting of the Last Judgment, and his Creation of Man in the Sistine Chapel. J he Transfiguration, by Raphael, is said to be the finest picture in the world ; and I cordially agreed in the general admiration of its inimitable drawing, expression, and composition. This, however, is one of those sublime subjects to which human genius is utterly inadequate ; the most skilful pencil cannot embody the grand concep tions, which the description of the Evangelist awakens in every mind ; and if the picture of Ra phael is not all that we are at first led to expect, it may, perhaps, be all that human art could produce. With this qualification, I would venture, in the spirit, not of candour merely, but of reverence, to animadvert on a few points, in which this wonder ful master seems to have failed. The principal subject of the picture, — the Saviour of the world in celestial glory, accompanied by three chosen disciples, and receiving the homage of the great lawgiver, and the most favoured prophet of the TRANSFIGURATION BY RAPHAEL. 335 old dispensation, who descended in the radiance of heaven, — is of itself so grand and impressive, that the mind is impatient of any circumstance which can tend to divide its attention and its interest. For this reason, I am inclined to object to the group at the bottom of the mount, — from whom the glorious transaction on its summit was entirely concealed, whom the painter, therefore, has been obliged to represent as utterly unconscious of it, — thus impart ing to his picture aU the disagreeable effect of double plan. The mount, too, seems, neither in height nor in form, to be a theatre sufficiently grand for so august a scene, while, by separating the figures concerned in this scene from the multi tude below, it divides the painting into two dis tinct pictures. This defect is more perceptible in the original painting, than in the beautiful engrav ing by Morghen. In the upper division, the figure of the Saviour certainly wants the dignity with which the imagination invests the Son of God, ap pearing in the splendour of Divinity — but what painter would not here have failed ? In the lower division, the possessed boy, who has the muscular arms of a Hercules, seems to be greatly convulsed, yet his legs are in a state of rest, and somewhat at variance with the rest of the figure. An arm, pro jected from a figure behind the father of the luna tic, is extremely stiff; and on the opposite side of the picture, two arms appear in a line, exactly in 336 TRANSFIGURATION BY RAPHAEL. the same position. The very singularity of this appearance, however, may, perhaps, contribute to the general expression ; for I have observed, that in some of the greatest works of the ancient mas ters, repetition of attitude is by no means uncom mon, when simplicity is intended. All the figures are marvellously well drawn and painted, especial ly the heads and hands; and the draperies, rounded and finished with the utmost care, are absolutely faultless. I could have wished, however, that the reflected lights in the shadows of the whole paint ing had been clearer. They would thus have pro duced more of the generate of nature : " For shades too dark dissever'd shapes will give, And sink the parts their softness would relieve.'' The principal colours are blue, orange, crimson, dusky green, and cool grey. The drapery of the female figure is pink, with a blue robe over her right shoulder. The glazings are done with the local colour of the draperies, and not with brown. It is said, that this magnificent picture has suffered greatly while in the hands of the French, and that, with the exception of the head of the disciple with the book, there is little left entire. The fine im- pasta in several places has been rubbed away. The Madonna della Foligna. This picture is, in regard to colouring, and a happy union of all the essential parts, much superior to the Transfiguration, i GALLERY OF THE VATICAN. 337 the whole being painted by Raphael himself. The celestial appearance of the Virgin is one of the happiest efforts of his pencil. She is repre sented in the sky, surrounded by a number of cherubs in a circle of golden light. St John and St Francis are on her right, and on her left is seen a cardinal, and an aged man behind him. In the centre appears an angel standing with something Uke a mirror in his hand, but which formerly had contained an inscription. This figure is per fect in colouring, and highly impasted; so full and so rich, that it is like flesh itself, seeming as if it would yield to the touch. The face of St Francis beams with light and clearness, and all that be witching colouring which captivates the mind. This celebrated work might, indeed, form a school of itself, and teach aU that is noble in art. Both in the Madonna della Foligna, and the picture of the Transfiguration, the greens used in the re painting by the French have changed to blue, their yellows having failed. Titian. This celebrated picture consists of the Virgin Mary and the Infant Jesus, seated in the clouds, and below them appears a Pope with St Cathe rine, St Sebastian, and other saints. The mas tery of pencil, admirable colouring, and clair-ob- scure displayed in this painting, may challenge any VOL. i. y 338 gallery of the Vatican. work of art in Italy. It is placed among the works of Raphael, Domenichino, Caravaggio ; and con trasted with them, furnishes an additional proof of the power of the Venetian style of painting in the hands of Titian. In colouring, the works of the other great masters did not appear so chaste and dignified, nor recal such . ideas of grandeur through recollections of grave and solemn harmony. The figure of St Catherine is al most unequalled in grace and delicacy; not even Cor- reggio's Mary Magdalene in Parma appears superior. The purity of feeling perceptible throughout, seems to indicate that Titian must have had some prin ciple to direct him in such a work of "sentiment. It could not have been done by accident, nor could he have found such perfection in common nature. Yet has he in the same picture intro duced a figure of St Sebastian, beautifully colour ed to be sure, but stiff, ill drawn, and in other respects unpleasing to the eye. Is it not strange, that the same mighty genius should have pro duced two figures so extremely opposite in the qualities referable to good design ? The pope, too, and indeed all the other saints except the divine St Catherine, have but a vulgar expression ; but none more so than the pope, who looks gruff and unmannerly, compared with the delicate, the humble St Catherine, standing in the most heart- winning attitude by his side ; indeed, I felt my- GALLERY OF THE VATICAN. 339 self so much interested with this heavenly female, that for a time I was in fear lest his holiness might abruptly turn round, and injure her with his pro digious crozier. In composition, the picture is but imperfect ; the architecture, which is bad, seems to divide the subject in two. St Sebastian appears a spot, and immediately catches the eye, which is so displeased with the meanness of his figure, that it cannot for a time search out for the innumerable beauties in the painting. This picture was repainted, but it is uncertain by whom ; the garments of the pope were mere frip pery, a thousand petty ornaments destroying the whole effect. This absurdity, however, has been removed, and the broad, masterly, and judicious pencilUng of Titian is now unveiled. Caravaggio. An Interment of Christ. A picture, re markable for light and shade, good colouring, roundness, and striking effect ; but the figures have not the smallest appearance of dignity. Ca ravaggio seems to have kept close to his model in every respect. Joseph of Arimathea is positively disagreeable ; the mother of Christ is represented in the character of an old country-woman, with her cloak about her ; and the accompanying Marys are in similar taste. The head of our Saviour, from 340 gallery of the Vatican. its unnatural projection, wants support, and is un pleasing to the eye. Guido. Cupid detaining Fortune, the same subject as that of the picture in the possession of Alex ander Gordon, Esq. of Edinburgh, by the same mas ter, but with this difference, that the former holds a crown, the latter a purse in the right hand. It is light and clean, but from what I can recollect of Mr Gordon's picture, I think his has more tone, * and is in other respects fully more agree able. Guercino. Christ and Thomas, a rich picture, and broad in its effect, though certainly it wants middle tint, and, from its having no decided reflected lights, is remarkably heavy. The subject, however, is well represented; the surprise of the apostle on the right of our Saviour, especially, is admirably expressed. Paul Veronese. A Queen meditating before a Cross. A noble piece of colouring, in a low tone. The quiet • I have seen few small collections more select than Mr Gordon's. It has also the advantage of agreeable variety, which is not generally the case with the collections on the continent. GALLERY OF THE VATICAN. 341 religious repose, so distinguishable in it, is per fectly suitable to the subject, and shews that even Paul Veronese could adapt the Venetian style to lofty sentiment. Andrea Sacchi. A picture, consisting of several Monks in white attire, like that of the Benedictines. This picture is justly celebrated for its good effect, al though the painter had to contend with great dif ficulty in the management of so much light. There is no positive colour, except in the faces and hands, and a little yeUow and delicate grey in the sky ; the rest of the picture is finished with brown. The painting of the Crucifixion of St Peter, by Caravaggio, has his usual good and bad quali ties ; the lowest nature, however, prevaUs. Guercino. Mary Magdalene and Angels, with emblems of the Cross, — full of taste, but I regret its black ness. There is also another picture by this master of a Warrior, who has assumed the habit of a monk, while the Virgin and Child, beautifully painted, are seen sitting in the sky. The Warrior, from his uncouth appearance, had better remained in the field. Domenichino. His famous picture of St Jerome. The dig- 342 GALLERY OF THE VATICAN. nified character, the splendid and luminous effect of this picture, must surprise every beholder. In expression it is also perfect, and seems, like a cen tral light, to radiate from the dying Saint, through all the other figures. The Priest in orange drapery is without a fault, and the figure in purple, sup posed to be a portrait of Domenichino himself, is worthy of its situation in this sublime production. The back-ground, composed of buildings and trees, is perhaps unrivalled, and classes the painter with Titian in that department of landscape. The print of this magnificent work is in every person's hands, Barocck). The Annunciation, a picture of great merit, especially in colouring, somewhat reminds me of Mr Geddes, especially from the bold impasta of the lights, smoothness and clearness in the shadows, and the brilliant, harmonious, and scientific ai> rangement of colours ; qualities which never fail to please. The pictures in the Galleries of the Vatican are few in number ; but two of them rank among the finest pictures in the world, — the Transfi guration by Raphael, and the St Jerome by Do menichino. The many religious festivals are said to be much against the painters who attend the LAST JUDGMENT BY M. ANGELO. 343 Vatican,* from their being obliged to leave their work when they may be inspired, or have the feeling to proceed in their study. Sometimes there are three festivals in a week. No doubt, interruption is apt to interfere with unity of de sign; but the work of copying seems compara tively so purely mechanical, that it requires no thing but a knowledge of the art to proceed in a uniform manner ; the hints of genius, on the con trary, are often so evanescent, that they must be embodied ere they evaporate, or be lost for ever. Even to those interruptions, however, Raphael (if he attended to them) was so superior, that he has been able to preserve the fire of his genius, pure, and as strong as at the first, in works which re quired years to accomplish, kindling, too, in other bosoms, the glow which animated his own. In deed, the whole Italian school have laboured under interruptions, arising from fasts and religious cere monies. Yet it is the only school, the masters of which are still unrivalled. Sistine Chapel. The fresco painting of the Last Judgment by Michael Angelo, in the CapeUa Sistina, in the * A note from Canova entitles a person to study in the Vatican, or copy any statue or picture. This privilege is very easily obtained, by persons of any country, from that liberal and enlightened man. 344 LAST JUDGMENT BY M. ANGELO. Vatican, is one of those works which seem princi pally to address the learned few. In its present state, it is wanting in many of those fascinating qua lities which attract the untutored eye ; for, although the judgment of both, as the philosophic Barry observes, " may be the same, the attention of the one spectator is employed upon what the picture possesses, of the other, upon what it wants." The colouring, from various causes, has little to recommend it. The different groupes of figures, many of which are incomparably fine, are of a dusky red, and surrounded with a cold monotonous blue, which produces an unpleasing effect. The com position, consisting of four rows of figures rising above each other, offers no repose to the eye, and as little to the mind, when it traces the singulari ties and inconsistencies with which this great work abounds, from the figure under the column at the top of the painting, to Charon in his boat below. It is likewise evident, that Michael Angelo does not always adapt an appropriate character to his subject. The short necks and raised shoulders of many of his figures, especially of our Saviour, St Peter, and the figures to the right of Christ, may convey the idea of strength, but not of dignity. The mode, too, in which some of the infernal spirits are represented as inflicting pain, forms a very unseemly ornament for the altar-piece of a church. There surely might have been some other LAST JUDGMENT BY M. ANGELO. 345 less indecent method of conveying the idea of torture. The prevailing appearance, likewise, of great bodily strength in aU the figures, even to those issuing from their graves, with their heavy coats of muscles upon them, is but little compa tible with the spiritual world. And what could have induced that great artist to have mixed Heathen mythology with the truths of Scripture ? Surely Charon wafting the souls of the dead over Cocytus is out of place in a Christian temple. The fire, too, which is intended to represent infernal flames, would hardly boil a kettle. But all this is the mere small talk of criticism. Michael Angelo soars far above occasional inaccura cy of pencil or of thought. He is the Homer of paint ing ; and none but a Zoilus would chuse to dwell on slight defects, which are eclipsed by the splen dour of innumerable and unrivalled beauties. The ingenious mind wUl rather take pleasure in de riving improvement from these inexhaustible trea sures and astonishing combinations, which exhibit the most energetic mind fraught with the noblest conceptions of the sublime. Like the Iliad or the Paradise Lost, this stupendous work is not to be appreciated by a glance. The more it is examined and studied, the more will the grasp and compre hension of the master's mind appear. The original ity of his composition and foreshortening is endless, and almost perplexes the mind by the vast diver- 346 LAST JUDGMENT BY M. ANGELO. sity of attitudes the most difficult to express. Then, too, when we consider that this great man was the first who dashed into the regions of sublimity, and CI speak of his works in general) that it was he who illumined the soul of Raphael, and taught the world ideal grandeur, it almost appears a sacrilege to presume to criticise his works. He who looks on the Creation of Man on the roof of the Sistine Chapel, must confess, that in dignity, beauty, ori ginality, variety, and I may add colouring, * it has no equal, It is here that successive generations have been inspired, and taught to venerate the name of Michael Angelo. But to return to the picture of the Last Judg ment, it is greatly to be regretted, that it is likely to be entirely ruined by the smoke of the nume rous torches which are lighted upon particular oc casions ; unfortunately, too, the restorers have been at work upon it, and have scratched away the dusky veil of time and accident, from between the groupes of figures, leaving about an inch or two of its for mer state round each of them. This sacrilegious proceeding has destroyed the * The back-grounds of the figures are of a reddish pearly grey, a colour which harmonizes well with the orange greens, and delicate carnations of the painting. The Last Judg ment, in point of colouring, is not to be compared with the creation of man, and in some degree realizes the maxim, that what does not please the eye, will not readily gratify the mind. LAST JUDGMENT BY M. ANGELO. 347 unity of the whole, and the figures which do not seem to be touched, have acquired a heavy patched appearance, which they would not have had, if the general hue of darkness had been allowed to re main over the whole painting. That general din- giness, though it could not improve the picture as finished by the inimitable artist, could not have greatly injured its character of sublimity. The lower part of the painting, however, is ex tremely grand, and the groupes of the second and the female figures in the third range are astonish ingly fine. Comparing the Last Judgment with the Creation of Man, and the accompanying figures on the roof, the preference will be given to the latter ; though, perhaps, there is in the former more originaUty or extraordinary invention. The general character of both, as, indeed, that of all his works, even to his Sybils, and other female figures, is grandeur, seemingly arising from size, form, and strength, more than from any superiori ty of mental expression. LETTER XXIX. ROME. Character qfthe Pope His Situation. — His Holiness' s wish to establish a Catholic Bishop at Corfu. — Mode qf Intro duction to the Pope Exiled Literary Persons. — State qf Papal Revenue 1817. — Cardinal Ruffo Cardinal Fesch Dissatisfaction in the creating of a number of Cardinals Vatican Library. — Propaganda Fide. — Restoration qf An cient MS. to Germany. — Libraries Dr Sebastian's re searches. Ihe present Pope Chiaramonti is of a noble family, his manners those of a well-bred gentleman, and his deportment exhibits much of that mildness which is depicted in his countenance. He is li beral and friendly to the reform of abuses, though, on some points, he retains his early prejudices, which, perhaps, he may have imbibed when in mo nastic orders. His minister, Gonsalvi, is a man of enlighten ed views, which have rendered him obnoxious to the College of Cardinals in 1817. Ten car dinals, with the Cardinal Dean at their head, demanded an audience, (which cannot be refused to a cardinal,) to remonstrate against certain re forms proposed by Gonsalvi in the law depart ments, and desiring the dismissal of that minister. The Pope was somewhat alarmed at the number and individual importance of the persons who so- 12 situation of the pope. 349 Ucited it, but was not intimidated into any aban donment of his minister ; the effect, however, of this and other combinations, has been felt in para lyzing the efforts which had reform for their object. The papal throne is indeed at this time no tranquil seat ; a part of the people of the country are still smitten with the principles of revolution ary France ; other classes urge the reconsecration of every instrument of superstition. Without is a foreign power, Austria, which, after having acquired nearly the whole of Italy, looks to the possibility of the acquisition of the remainder ; and, in fact, the language held out to the sovereign pontiff from that quarter, has been, since the Congress of Vienna, sufficiently imperious. Among the political specu lators in Italy, it was contemplated as probable, that the temporal possessions of the pope were destined to become, within a short time, a province of the Austrian dominions, and the suggestion was received among the Romans with that ex pressive shrug, which always accompanies in Italians the notion of a German master. There are to be found, notwithstanding, those, who think the dig nity of the papal chair still sufficient to confer lustre on the noble families who are allied to it ; and a smile of marked satisfaction played on the aged cheeks of the Duke of Chiaramonti, the elder brother of Pius VII. when assured by a friend of ours, that it was impossible to mistake his family, 350 MODE of introduction to the pope. since his smile must remind any one of his holi ness. The territorial acquisitions of England in the Italian seas, have introduced ecclesiastical subjects of discussion between our governors and the court of Rome. Malta has a Catholic prelacy, and Sir Thomas Maitland has been engaged in a negocia- tion with the pope, arising out of the desire of the latter for the appointment of a Catholic Archbishop at Corfu. In order to create, as might be suppos ed, a better prospect of success, the court of Rome offered to allow Sir T. Maitland to appoint an Archbishop of his own choice, their anxiety being to secure, though at the expence of such a con cession, the creation of the establishment. The number of Catholics, however, at Corfu, was so small, that the British governor considered such an appointment as unnecessary. On occasions when the English have been in troduced to him, the pope has taken the opportuni ty to say flattering things respecting the English character. The number of introductions, — for few Englishmen return from Rome without having been introduced, if he is at that time in Rome,-— cannot fail to be burthensome to his holiness. As England has had, since the Reformation, no accre dited minister at the Roman court, the introduction of the English has usually devolved on some one of the Scotch or Irish Ecclesiastics of the Catholic Church resident at Rome. Abbe Grant of the INTRODUCTION to the pope. 351 Scotch College long performed that office. The person to whom it now belongs is Abbe Taylor, an Irishman. To this gentleman you signify your wish, for the gratification of which, you have, how ever, frequently to wait some time, as his list is, in the full season, very numerous, and the pope re ceives only seven strangers at one time, and many days often elapse between one reception day and the next. The necessary equipment is a court dress, sword, &c. according to instructions from Abbe Taylor ; persons who have a claim to it may go in uniform, naval or military, and many do this who have no claim. The uniform of a naval lieu tenant had got into the hands of a Roman tailor, who had let it out, for the occasion of an intro duction to the pope, to so many of our country men, that it was nearly as well known at the Vatican as the habit of a Cardinal would be, and the navy lieutenant was a standing joke at Rome. To shew how often a military habit was assumed, persons who were at most only officers of local militia, or had perhaps even less connection with mUitary affairs, I may mention the following anec dote. A post captain in the British service, a friend of ours, on his return from one of the introductions, told us that the Abbe Taylor, judging from all his flock being habited in naval and military uniforms, introduced the whole seven to his holiness, as per- 352 introduction to the pope. sons whose arms had assisted in his restoration : " Santo padre hanno combattate per terra e per mare." Our friend was, however, after all, the only one in the party who was not a civilian. When the seven persons who are to form that day's party are all arrived at Abbe Taylor's, they set out for the Vatican, where they are first intro duced by Cardinal Gonsalvi, and then, being first desired to divest themselves of their swords, are conducted by the abbe to the presence of the pope. Nothing can contrast more strongly with the pomp and circumstance of a royal levee than this scene. The pope sits in a sort of study at his table writing, with some books near him, his dress being quite a dishabUle, somewhat like a flannel dressing gown. When the visitors enter, he rises and comes for ward to the circle, and commences conversation, generally preceding it with something compli mentary to the English character, and his high esteem for the nation. He observed to a friend of mine, that when he first came as a student to Rome, he scarcely remembered one chimney in the city, but that now he could count nearly 100 ; this he attributed to the British residents. He particularly mentioned his obligations to the Eng lish nation for the restoration of so many of the works of art recovered to Rome at their expence. The period for remaining in the papal presence is various, but generally not exceeding half an hour. ITALIAN PHYSICIANS. 353 Some English ladies procured the honour of an in-. troduction, and wore black veils on the occasion. We have often met his holiness taking his favourite walk near the Coliseum. His morning dress is a scarlet mantle, a scarlet hat, with a very broad brim, edged with gold, scarlet stockings and shoes. When he is met by the Romans, they invariably fall on their knees, and he gives them his blessing. The British stand, and take off their hats, and their bows are graciously returned. On one of his walks, the pope threw some money on the road among some poor people, and to our surprise, they scrambled and fought for it as soon as his back was turned. * Among literary persons, and in the liberal pro fessions, particularly the medical, both at Rome and elsewhere in Italy, an attachment prevails to the principles of the French revolutionists, both in religion and politics. Italian physicians, exiles from their country for an adherence to repub* lican notions, generally retire to the continent of Greece, or various parts of the Levant. The study of physic is by no means held in that esteem or respect which it meets with in Britain. The * His holiness's carriage, which is a plain crazy-loqking machine, drawn by six horses, with riders in purple livery, always follows him. VOL. I. Z 354 CARDINALS RUFFO,— FESCH. fees given to medical men are small, and few of tha profession can be said to be men of wealth. The papal revenues are considered as improving, even under the expence incurred in the accom modation given to the Austrian troops passing through the country, to and from the kingdom of Naples, which those troops occupy till the restored king is firmly seated in his government. No fewer than three members of the Doria fami ly are in the sacred college, an uncle and two ne phews. Cardinal Ruffo, the celebrated leader of the Calabrian insurrection, resided in one of the palaces in Rome. He had much of the barbarian in him, and his campaigns resembled those of a Guerilla chief; at Rome, he hardly ever stirs out of his palace. Cardinal Fesch is an object of some curiosity from his being the uncle of Napoleon. He, too, leads a life of much privacy, which was ren dered advisable by the suspicious, atid not very be nign eye, with which he was viewed under the change of circumstances at the Vatican. He is not esteemed as a man of talent ; but his sleek face indicates some fondness for convivial pleasures, the indulgence of which has subjected him to the gout, to which the rest of the family of the ex-emperor are strangers. The fortunes of his extraordinary nephew had placed honours within his reach, be fore those of every member of the family. Fesch, at one time, filled the meanest ecclesiastical si- SUPPORT OF CARDINALS. 355 tuations in Rome. When the insalubrity of the summer season in this city makes the Romans re tire to their country villas, almost all the clergy follow the emigration ; their place within the walls is supplied, and the offices of the church are admini stered, by those of them who are in the greatest indigence, (generally found among the priests from Corsica,) and who can be tempted by the offered hire. Fesch, it is said, was long in this needy and mercenary class. Considerable dissatisfaction was created at Rome by the number of cardinals appointed on the return of the pope, as the new cardinals cost the public treasury a sum which could not well be spared. Four thousand crowns a-year is the low est salary allotted to any who holds this office ; and, at this time, 10,000 or 12,000 crowns is not un usually the amount. Owing to the suppression in so many countries of the benefices, from which their incomes were derived, some of the old cardinals are left almost without any income from extrinsic sources, and a considerable number of the new are likewise without the incomes required. In this case, a cardinal is authorized to draw upon the papal treasury for four thousand crowns an nually; and this sum, which, in former times, was never wanted, and therefore never demand ed, has, within the last three years, been drawn by numbers of the new cardinals. This cir- 356 LIBRARIES. cumstance made the creation of so many of these dignitaries an unpopular act at Rome. It is true, that the sacred college was in 1815 reduced to twenty-nine members, but this number has been more than doubled by successive creations between that time and 1817* There are four Catholic powers,— Spain, Austria, France, and Portugal,rr?- which have the right each of excluding one cardi nal from being pope, provided they impose the veto previous to his election ; they therefore endeavour to find out who is likely to be the object of the choice of the sacred college while the conclave is sitting, that if it should fall upon a person disagree able to them, their negative may be interposed in time. Each of these powers can name four hats ; and if they ask more, they generally obtain them. The Vatican library is closed duripg the sum mer; at other times it is open from nine in the morn ing till noon, — Sundays and Thursdays excepted. The Collegium de Propaganda Fide had in the be ginning of 1817 no students, so dreadfully had its revenues suffered during the preceding years ; the printing-press is going on, but the number of books printed is small, owing to the late disastrous times. Many of the books which are set down in this sor ciety's catalogue as printed at their press, were not to be procured, but a hope was expressed that they would soon be reprinted. In 1815, the King of Prussia was instigated by LIBRARIES. 857 Baron William Humboldt, the brother of the cele- brated traveller, and a zealous cultivator of ancient literature, to solicit the pope to restore to Ger many a number of ancient manuscripts, of which that country had been despoiled by the Swedes in the thirty years' war, and with which Christi na, on her conversion to the Romish faith, had etfrifched the library of the Vatican. This re quest, made at a period so favourable to its being acceded to, as the termination of a war, which restored Pius to his papal throne, was not re fused; and several of the German universities have profited from the compliance. The lovers of let ters must be pleased at the transference of so much literary wealth from Italy, into the hands of the in dustrious scholars and critics of Germany. All the libraries of Italy are opened with great liberality to strangers, and are indeed much fre quented by natives. This latter circumstance might create a supposition, that a passion for Uterature is more general in the country than it actually is ; but it must be remembered, that very few private persons in Italy possess any collections of books. so that the necessary resort is to the public Ubra- ries.* Some of the scientific men complain of the * In Rome the library called the Minerva is open from 8 to 11 in the morning, and from 2 to half.past3 in the afternoon ; that of St Augustino from 8 to 12; Sepienza from 8 to 11, and in the afternoon from 1 till 4 ; Collegio Romano from 9 till 1 ; 358 DOCTOR SEBASTIANI. discouragement shewn to their inquiries by the state, which regards, as they allege, with some suspicion their physical investigations. Dr Seb^s- tiani, the Botanical Professor, is said to be a man of considerable research and quickness ; he is coir lecting the materials for a Flora, which will illus trate many passages in the classics, besides enlarg ing our information in the particular object of his studies. and the Corsini from 10 till 1 : the two last require an in troduction, which is very easily obtained. All the other libraries are supported by government. The books are not given out; they must be read within thq rooms of the library, where there is every convenience and accommodation. For admission to the Vatican library a very particular introduc tion is required. LETTER XXX. ROME. Indolence qf the Roman Nobility.— Its causes. — Malaria— Education qf the Noblemen. — Their want qf dignity. — Morals qf the Women. — Cavalieri Serventi. — Education of the Girts. — They go more to foreign society than formerly. — British Ladies do not associate much with the Italian La dies. — DukeqfB — '_ Routes Dressqfthe Italian Ladies.-— Their Manners contrasted with those qf Women qf other Nations. — Conversation Room. — Gaming Room.— Music Room. — English Lounging Parties. 1 here is no peculiarity in Roman manners, which is more apt to excite the surprise and the contempt of strangers, particularly Britons, than the indo lence of the nobiUty and principal gentlemen. Yet there are circumstances in their political condi tion, which, when duly considered, convert our sur prise into compassion, and transfer our indignant contempt from these degraded orders themselves, to the unwise and oppressive government by which they are held enthralled. To proprietors of land, the country can present but few attractions, when industry is repressed by limitations which rob the agriculturist of the pro- 360 INDOLENCE OF THE ROMAN NOBILITY. fits of his labour, and thus diminish to the land lords the value of their estates. A Roman noble man, were he to reside among his tenantry, would find himself in the midst of wretchedness which he could not relieve.— of poverty, by which, with out the pleasure of being generous, he was himself impoverished. He would see his lands lying waste, because there was no inducement to culti vate them, when the produce, without meliorating the condition of the cultivator, was only to enrich the Coffers of a rapacious government ; and would be solicited by a penurious peasantry for a reduc tion of rents, already too scanty to maintain an establishment suitable to his rank. It is not to be wondered, therefore, that they should have no pleasure in field sports, in rural amusements, in planting, gardening, or improving their estates* Renovation must here begin with the court. When the oppressive hand of power is re moved from the husbandman) and he is encouraged to labour, by the liberty of carrying his produce to the most advantageous market, and the security of enjoying, at least, the principal share of his profits) Italy will assume a new aspect ; the lands which are now left uncultivated, engendering in their neglected marshes the dreaded malaria, will soon be drained, and become salubrious and productive ; and the nobility) finding their seats the centre of improvement aiid comfort, will learn to take plea- THEIR IMPERFECT EDUCATION. 361 sure in occupations which are exalting them, by the increase of their revenues, in the scale of society.* It is truly deplorable to see the Campagna Romana, a tract containing nearly a million of acres, left, not only a Useless waste, but the ne glected abode of that subtile enemy, which is per petually extending its baneful influence* and has now advanced to the very walls of Rome. What can rouse a government to a sense of its own in terest, which looks, with apparent indifference, on the spread of a pestilence, that is rapidly depopu lating its territories, and involves high and low in one common danger ? The imperfect manner in which the nobility of Rome are educated, is likewise to be ascribed to the state of depression, in which they are kept by the policy of the court. Rigidly excluded from all offices of honour and emolument, which are en tirely engrossed by the priests, they have no in ducement to cultivate those branches of literature and science, which would enable them to distinguish themselves among their countrymen, and qualify them for becoming able statesmen and politicians. To pass away life in the gayest, easiest manner, * Besides many other restrictions on the corn market, a tax of eighteen per cent, is imposed by government on all agricultural produce, exported from the Roman territory, ex cept to the province of Bologna. 36% LAXITY OF MORALS. seems the grand object, to which they believe that all their education ought to be directed. Gallant ry, intriguing, gaming, and fiddling, are, there fore, their favourite accomplishments ; and their character is marked by all the frivolity and mean ness, which are the natural result of such an educa tion, and such circumstances. From their number, many of them are miserably poor ; yet, too proud to engage in any honourable pursuit, they become indolent dependents and sycophants. They will let their palaces and houses, and generally endeavour to take advan tage of a stranger, if they are not bound by a written agreement ; it would be folly to trust to their honour. I speak of the mass ; no doubt, there are many upright and virtuous individuals among them, but almost none who have that dig nity of character, which we find in the same class in England. Their whole system of morals, both with the men and women, is well known to be highly reprehensible, and greatly at variance with our views of correct conduct: one would think they made scarcely any distinction between virtue and vice. Domestic comfort there can be little, and, I should think, as little affection. The husband must be uncertain, whether the children that his wife presents to him, be his own. She is never without her cavaliere servente at her toUette, or in EDUCATION OF THE GIRLS. 868 her airings in the Corso, * attending to all her ca* pricious whims. The husband, a cavaliere ser. vente himself, performs the same offices to other women. Is it not disgraceful, that men of rank should be thus employed, instead of attending to the general good of their country ? Ladies of the higher class seldom nurse their own chUdren, nor do they occupy themselves with their education. The boys are educated by the priests, and the education of the girls is left to the nuns of a convent, who, from their situa tion in life, cannot be well informed ; they read no books but those of their rehgion. Prejur dice and superstition form part of their creed, and are enjoined as indispensable to the true Car thoUc. But what must the girls think of those rules of self-denial which they are taught, or even of religion itself, when they perceive the conduct of their parents ? Must they not suppose them fetters assumed merely for a time, which they are at liberty to cast away at the moment of freedom, the happy period of marriage and cicisbeism ? The girls did not formerly mix in society ; but, in consequence of the number of strangers with their families who go to the semi-Italian society, the Duchess of F — 's, the Duke of B — 's, (Torlonia the banker,) R — 's, &c. they occasionally appear ; but * The Corso is the principal street. 364 DUKE OF B — 'S ROUTES. it does riot seem that the young people form any in timacy with each other. The English ladies,) in par ticular, With few exceptions, keep at a very respect able distance, perhaps too much so, * for with all their extraordinary conduct and customs, the best of the Italian women, who mingle in society with strangers, are far from being immodest or unpolite in their manners. At Torlonia's, the Duke of B , one of the principal resorts of the English, a suite of rooms is appropriated to different games, (faro, cards, &e«) music, conversation, and promenading. The Duchess is extremely gracious and polite in her manners, mingling among stars, ribbons, and dia monds, with great facility, conversing with ladies of various nations, with a cardinal, t a prince, an am bassador, an English nobleman, or a Greek, with considerable spirit and address. The Italian prin cesses and nobility are not remarkably splendid or imposing in their appearance. I have seen a group of them sitting together*, and they might have * This, it has been said, proceeds from their not knowing the languages sufficiently for conversation, and I am the more convinced of this, as I perceive that those few British ladies who speak Italian fluently, are very much in their society. T Not above three or four of the cardinals go into society, and these are censured by the very strict ones. If at an en tertainment where a ball is to be given, they retire when it commences. Gonsalvi, the prime minister, is the only cardinal who invites strangers to dinner. DRESS AND MANNERS OF ITALIAN LADIES. 865 been mistaken for people of a very middling rank in life. I should, however, mention that they were considerably advanced in age ; the younger women of rank are occasionally very magnificent, wearing a profusion of diamonds. There is, how ever, always something wrong. Like their palaces, they exhibit too great a profusion of ornament, not in the purest taste ; a certain tawdry, untidy cha racter prevails more or less in all. Naked arms and bosoms, and short petticoats, are not in favour in the Italian circles. Indeed, I re member a Uttle censure was passed upon a young Stranger, who appeared at a party rather too much in a state of nature; and I believe some time elapsed before it could be believed, that the innocent crea ture was perfectly modest. The multiplicity of these seminudes, however, appearing from the same na tion, removed the prejudice ; but the Roman ladies have not adopted the fashion. Neither do the Italian women mount the backs of the filthy guides, who shew the dark and subterraneous places, such as the Grotto of the Sybil on Lake Avernus. Nor do they elbow and battle, laying aside all female deli cacy, among the crowd, to obtain situations at the public spectacles. Italian ladies might perhaps act differently abroad. People remaining but a short time in a place must exert themselves, and conse quently may often appear to disadvantage in their eagerness to see public sights, and to obtain in- 366 AFFABILITY OF ITALIAN MANNERS. formation, while the same people might be perfect ly correct at home. The Roman ladies, when they get together in private, or in the drawing-room, speak very loud, not in the most agreeable tone of voice, and with consi derable action and expression. The talking-room, for conversation is seldom there, unless you allow a few detached sentences and remarks to be such, is more amusing to the eye than the ear. The general buzz of various languages and voices is not referable to any thing very refined. Many of the Roman ladies are rather elegant in their manners, without that fidgeting and restless disposition which is often perceptible in our British circles. Some of our pretty belles, I perceived, were squeezing here, and edging there, for the dues of the evening, and Bella ! Bellissima ! might be heard from the Italian noblemen in an undertone of voice, as they stood in groupes, or sat in the hollow of the windows. In comparing our own countrywomen with the Roman ladies in courtly parties, they have beyond all doubt greatly the advantage in point of beauty, and dignity of carriage ; but the Italian women have a gentle softness of manner, perfectly free of hauteur or self-sufficiency; their walking step is easy, without that start or tread, which perhaps bears too much the character of con fidence. < The cutting system (as it is called in Britain) is GAMING-R00M.— MUSIC-ROOM. 367 quite unknown in Rome. Poorer relations and friends may safely look up to the richest, without being repulsed by the frown of disdain. The frosty look of a colder climate is unknown in Italy. How beautiful and grateful it is to a benevolent mind, to see even those of low condition step up with confidence and kiss the hand of a prince, secure of meeting with gracious smiles ! This general urbanity and propriety of feeling admits of no particular sets, and eyeing, selfish, quizzing par ties ; nor is modesty or backwardness allowed to brood in a corner upon its own reflections. A landlord or landlady may do much in promoting ease and general happiness in society, but some thing is also required from the guests. The faro and other gaming tables offer excellent opportunities for the study of physiognomy. Na ture, generally mistress of herself, appears through various grimaces and affected smiles, which poorly hide the emotions of the soul. Persons of all ranks, nations, sexes, and ages, flock about them, and dignity and poUshed manners give place to anxious eagerness and hurried action, quite unbe coming a polished people. Beauty, wit, and talent, are seldom noticed among heaps of gold. It at tracts all eyes, and intrudes upon the best affec tions of the heart. The music-room is generally crowded, and, 368 VOCAL MUSIC OF iTALr. what may appear to yori a little singular, the performers are attended to, and can be heard, without the accompaniment of whispering and end less talking. The music is pleasingly varied, but the Buffo style is the favourite with the Ita lians. Little applause is given, even should a Duchess play ; but I recollect when an old super* annuated male Soprano, not unlike a large ba boon, sat grinning at the piano-forte, accompa nied by a bass and fiddle, every one laughed, every one was delighted, though sing he did not j he merely talked to the instrument, in a low tone of voice, axiA occasionally raised his head with a satyr-looking expression ; and when he concluded, bravos and expressions of applause resounded from every mouth : some of the audience, indeed, must haye had very long ears, to have heard his almost inaudible voice, at the distance from whence the shouts of praise proceeded. For my part,^ I could not hear a single syllable, being near the door ; yet all around me were testifying their ap probation. The Countess M. ¦- played such sweet and tender strains upon the harp ; * and the * I have often observed that the business of screwing and tuning is rarely practised in tue presence of an Italian audience ; perhaps the air may not have the same influence upon the strings as in colder climates ; it certainly is a happy relief from that tiresome proceeding. 1 ITALIAN COMPARED WITH SCOTISH SONGS. 869 Countess C. sung such heart-touching me lodies, that, to this hour, I grudge the little old Italian Soprano the commendation which was la vished on him. All Europe aUows to Italy the decided superio rity in vocal music ; and it certainly is exquisitely pleasing, not only from the very great beauty of composition, but from the sensibility with which it is sung. Partial as I am to our own melodies, I must not compare them with those of Italy ; nor is our language, or any language, so admirably fitted for giving effect to musical sounds. Yet when one examines the words to which the greater part of their melodies are sung, it is impossible not to regret the great inequality of the match, for they are as destitute of poetry as the ditties of VauxhaU, and silly in the extreme. To what an immeasurable height does Burns soar above the versemen of Italy ! and if his heart-touching strains, with our own sweet melodies, had the advantage of being sung in the same skilful and impressive manner, and with that fine enuncia tion of the words which so eminently distinguish Italian singers, they would electrify all hearers. While we admit the inferiority of our music then, compared with that of the Italians, they must yield the palm to us, in what constitutes at least half the interest of a song, the poetry : and vol. i. a a 37t) b_#ARTukE ftfcM the k6dn_s'. thui, I thifrk, Scotland ve*y fairly balances the ate- dittift. * Thie cbncert-fobiris are emptied aii'd filled With successions of new visitors at every aci, or gi-eat pause in the performance'. Tne pYeiMre and stream of cori_pany Which this Occasions iii the various rborris, is itself amusing, though, I mubt e'oiiiess, delicacy and refiiieriieftt took nd part iii the general squeeze. The parties iii the talking^ pro menading, and music rooms, moved aWay about eleven o'clock. The gamesters we?e riot so easily dispersed : when we took our last arid Scrutinizing look, we perceived a hundred eyes fixM up'cn a heap of gold; which the 'table had hohduVaWy ac quired. No parting adieus ; it would indeed be a sad Want of good breeding, to interrupt a duchess in the middle of her game. * Every admirer of Scottish music and song will acknow ledge his obligations to Mr George Thomson of Edinburgh, who has done more than any other individual to produce this happy union of our most touching national melodies, with poetry in every respect worthy of them, lie 'hkfe rio't only collected and published the finest old airs, with the songs originally adapted to therti, when these were deserving of pub lication ; bnt, by engaging men of genius to tune their harp to the most inspiring of these airs, he has been the means of bringing a most valuable accession to the poetry of Scotland'. To him we are indebted, in this manner, for many of the hap piest lyrical effusions of Bums, which were produced expYess- ly for Mr Thomson's work. 4 ENGLISH PARTIES. 371 A certain countess being extremely anxious to have something very select, attempted to exclude aU those who had not some pretension to the proud and half formed smile of consequential rank. But it would not take. The high and mighty travellers found that they could have enough of that at home. The affable and condescending D — s of D — dis plays more judgment, however, in the arrangement of her parties ; — her Grace brings together the proper ingredients of good and enlightened society. AVe find under her hospitable roof people of high distinction, fashion, and talent. They are receiv ed by the accomplished Duchess herself, a lady of the most agreeable and affable deportment. Gam bling or music form no part of the entertainment ; but rare books, antiquities, and various works of art, may be found in different rooms. Among persons of high and varied accomplishments, the subjects of conversation are alike instructive and entertaining, and are in general delicately and skUfully touched, without being dwelt upon long enough to exhaust the general vivacity. Men of genius and talent are particularly introduced to those who may be of service to them, and are spoken of in the most agreeable terms. The hearts of all, in short, seem to expand with gene rous sentiment, and devotion towards the amiable Duchess. The use, and, I would say, morality of such parties, must be obvious, — surely more im- vol. 1. t 372 ENGLISH PARTIES. proving to the heart and mind than the select or excluding system, the rattling of a dice-box, or the mere gratification of the ear. The smile of the excellent Duchess, Uke the light of heaven, beams on all around ! LETTER XXXI. RO'MEj Ball at the Neapolitan Ambassador's.— 'Character of a Ronton Masquerade. — Want qf Hospitality — Character of a Con- verzatione. — Improvvisatores. — Amusements of the Peasant* ry. — Love Epistles written by people who make a Livelihood by them.— Fighting with Knives and Stones.— Contrasts in Rome. The ambassa'dors of Various nations residing in Rome occasionally give balls and entertainments, but especially Count Blacas, the French ambassa dor. When an entertainment is given in honour of their sovereign, it is expected that the visitors shall attend in court dresses ; but this is hot strict* ly insisted on, owing to the number of foreigners at present in the imperial city. The other even ing we went to a ball given by the Neapolitan minister, in honour of the birth-day of the king of Naples, in the famous Palazzo1 Farnese. The company was very great ; a prodigious line of car riages of princes, nobility, cardinals, and dignified elergy, moved slowly forward with flambeaux and attendants, and successively dashed with thunder ing rapidity into the court of the palace. After 874 NEAPOLITAN AMBASSADOR'S BALL. ascending the great stair, which was lined with guards, we entered a large gallery crowded with innumerable domestics. On going into the intro duction-room, we found the minister of his Neapo litan majesty, covered with decorations, amidst a group of nobility of various nations. The ball-room was the famous Farnese Gallery, the roof and walls of which were painted by A. Ca racci and Domenichino.* Those magnificent fres coes, perhaps, never appeared to more advantage ; art, indeed, may be fairly said to have triumphed over meretricious splendour; notwithstanding the superb dresses and orders of distinction, diamonds hardly seemed to shine in their presence ; all eyes were fixed on those justly celebrated works, which seem ed to be improved by the gorgeous assemblage, t Our countrywomen, as usual, eclipsed in beauty aU the foreign fair, but not in sumptuous (dress. Some of the Italian princesses were almost covered with diamonds; still, however, lovely jaature comnaaiMled the admiring eye. The dancing was extremely * Some account of these pictures will be given in a future Lettei;. T The noble fresco .paintings on the roofs and walls, in the g-ei-t apartments in many of the Roman palaces, excite amo tions of melancholy, wlien we tttstOTrtfyestfrum them to ihe miserable brick Aeoi&, sand llbe Hew .'solitary individuals which are (occasionally seen in them. . WANT 0| HOSPITALITY. 37^ b,fd. Qut of cpmpliyppflttpthe British ladies, the Ita lian gpntlemen attempt^ country dances, in which tjiey absolutely f^i|p4> hopping, qs it were, wjth one Jeg across the pther, and occasipnally losjpg them selves in a maze of intripacy. Tfyeir intention, howpver, being so polite and good, quj. lqyply bejles merely smilpd at thejr cqi^fusion, aqd assiste4 them as well as pos_sjl}lp. ]n the waltzing they madp amends, ^nd e}pgftncp and ea^p changed place with awkwardness. In the gaming-poom we saw PP fprtupes lost or won : thp s^kes were small, but always gqlfl ; curiosity wg£ so busy, fpr that evenjpg, that mus?P ^os* .rs charms, and fqr the same reason, conversation took thp shape of the trjfling questions and npthings pf a prome; nade. The masquerade in Rome is little more *nan a mob pf masks ; character is never well sustained; the same umpesming squeaking yoicj?, the savfie childish mask, constantly annoy tjie eye and ear. Therp is occasiopally some gopd music io the theatres, and tolerable ppmjp actofjs ; but, genpraljy spp^jpg, the theatf icals are very in4ifferep±. The Rom^n npbUity aqd geptry have Uttle pf that spci$l spirit which characterizes the British riatipjj. They rarely give pljnners or pejtit spupers, —very seldom, indeed, tp strangers. Their fprtunes dp pot permit &$y grpqf display pf hospitality, ajjd, p^er^pg,' ^ is wise iq. them not to enter the lists 37& ITALIAN BAS bleus. with the expensive and affluent foreigners. It would require, indeed, a very princely revenue to entertain the hordes of strangers from every coun try in Europe, that are incessantly pouring into Italy. Yet, though, foreigners have little reason to extol the hospitality of the Italians, they have as little reason to complain of their want of polite ness. They are remarkably affable and attentive,' and, like the French, abound in proteistations of friendship, which are supported by numberless lit-. tie kind offices, arid the sincerity of which, there fore, it is unnecessary to scrutinize with too much rigour. Real friendship is every where a plant of rare growth ; and it would be unreasonable to ex pect that it should spring up in the course of a casual and short acquaintance between foreigners, who may never meet again. But surely some praise is due to that polite accommodation, which suits itself for the time to the circumstances of every visitant, and seems to take pleasure, as far as it is called upon, in enabling him to accomplish the purposes for which he travels. The very few Bas Bleus who have conversaziones after their drive in the Corso in the afternoon, are not the most agreeable ladies in Rome, nor is their entertainment of the first order. Some wretched scribbler may-recite his compositions, and flatter, and be flattered by the silly women. The dis gusting venal praise, and unremitting gallantry of IMPROWISATORES. 377 the men, would not be tolerated any where but in Italy. Here, however, it is enjoyed, and seems to give great delight. In their conversaziones, they have no books, music, cards, prints, or refresh ments ; so that there is no alternative but to talk. This forced chit-chat, however, often languishes, and resolves itself into what is really very unwor thy of the name of conversation. One of the principal amusements in Rome is listening for a whole evening to an hnprowisatore or improwisatrix. These exhibitions, notwithstand ing the affectation of inspiration, violent contor tions, and grimaces, are certainly very curious and amusing ; and occasionally their extemporaneous verse and prose is found to have considerable beauty ; but I believe no one has ventured to say, that, taking them altogether, they are fit produc tions to be offered to the public. Signor Tommaso Sgricci takes the lead ; and next to him, Signor Biondi, Signora Orfei, Signor Ferretti, and lastly, Signora Taddi. With the exception of Signor Sgricci, their recitations are accompanied by the piano-forte ; but Sgricci performs, like an actor, without any such assistance ; and without any hesi tation, composes a play with a chorus, and acts the whole in a very superior style. When we saw this celebrated man, a small tempor ary stage was erected for him, about eighteen inches in height from the floor. He is young and interest- 378 S.GtyOR SGRICCI. jflg in his appearance, about the middle size, with a very intelligent expression of Gpuntenanoe. Ife moijn);ed the stage, and requestpd the audienpe tp giye a subject ; when several persons, English, French, arid Italians, wrote one each on various slips pf paper* tp thp amount perhaps pf a 4ozen • Thesp were put mtq 3, Ijat an$ shifffled together, after which they were takpp put, wjth the exceptioji of three, fey fither persons pf tlje audience ; tfyp re maining thrpp wpre given to him in thp hat, intp which he .put hii3 hand_ and took out one of the jsjips of paper, on jyhich wa? writfeu Medea. The other tiWp subjects V^re the Rape qf Eurppa, an4 the S^- (erifij?e of Abraham. There could pe no deception. He placed hi§ hand uppn his forehead, thought for a moment. a.l4 then proceeded in his recita tion, receiving the plajijdijts a«.4 cheering shouts pf the Gprnpany ; and more than ppce he cpmpktply eljectrifiejj them- At the en4 of .ea,ch a$t, he ap peared amorig the nobility, and w#s fijost grajcipusr ly jMeiv/ed by a c.puple of elderly I^liai} Prin cesses, who almost oyprvyli#lme,d ,-him with their ca.re.ses. With aU fris tajegjfc. he had an ungrace ful manner of jtre_vding the pl#ge, ajppareptly as if bf_ Mt the floor to be fcqt beneath hujfy pajsing his feet with haste, a»d jpuittjng jt}ie;nj /lown yj a simi lar mannjer. R" .appeared itQ me, &$>, tjb#t there was a want of flow flf Jariguage, thp w,or,ds were all pwBPiUfifi^d j» a m_easui:e.d styie, w,i,th aja tesquaJ SIQN0RA TADDf. 379 emphasis on each, and the expression was given more at the end of the sentiment, than diffused throughout. The R's were sounded strongly, and, as they often occurred, they produced a most unpleasing monotony, His power of acting was very considerable, but I cannot say that his expression was always good or natural. The exhibition, however, altogether, was certainly very astonishing. He shewed great warmth of fancy and rapidity of thought, and if he even had availed himself of a little previous study, our surprise would not have been at all diminished : especially as he was requested once or twice to change the measure of the poetry, which he did with the utmost ease. Signora Taddi, whom we have likewise seen, bears no comparison witjb Signor Sgricci. Her manner was very unpleasing, reminding us of the boy possessed with devils, in the picture of the Transfiguration of Raphael. Her voice was hol low and unearthly ; and why she threw herself into such a variety of strange contortions, I have yet to learn. With aU these disagreeable accompa niments, she, nevertheless, got thrcwgh h,er work without uttering any absolute nonsense, arid occa sionally advanced a pretty thought. The amusements of jthe inferior class .of people seemed to me to he ^chiefly dancing, serenading, and promenading ; the game called Morra, or count- 380 ROMAN PEASANTRY. — LOVE EPISTLES. irig of fingers suddenly ; Punch's opera, the dan cing bear, swinging, and playing at bowls, and bull baiting ; but this is only on festal days, which certainly occur by much too often. Every saint, indeed, seems the patron of idleness, a third part of the year being shut out from industry. In their dress the women are somewhat gaudy, but the attire of the peasantry, when they appear oamar- ket days, is often extremely picturesque ; the panno and spelio are very becoming, but you may judge for yourself from the drawings of Penelli, who is an artist of great ability in painting Italian costume. The figures of men and women are very fine, and often graceful, and in their manners, there is an ease which seems to indicate a little taste. All, how ever, are said to follow the example of their su periors in laxity of morals, and I have heard some instances that would shock your ear. Yet the streets are never crowded with vicious women, nor do the theatres present such disgusting sights,- as may be seen in Drury Lane or Covent Gar den. From the ignorance of the lower ranks, many of them not being able to read or write, their love epistles are written by scribblers, who make a live lihood by such writings. The sum given is regu lated according to the number of words or flatter ing compliment ; in general, they do riot exceed the sum of 2d. 3d. 4d. or 6d. eaeh: letter ; if the 2iF-£___,E_$_rr _P_B_s_@Js__?n_ _s_.sy_D fflnticaasiaaH. -_ Ei t_ ** FIGHTING WITH KNIVES. ROBBERS. 381 writers, however, be employed by a person of any respectability in life, they rise in their demand. In their quarrels, the men of the inferior class used to fight with knives. In their attack, they wrapped up their left arm in their cloak, and held the knife about a couple of inches from the point. They seldom kiU each other, but they often inflict desperate wounds. Knives, at present, are not per mitted to be worn, in consequence of the horrible practice of fighting with them. They therefore have recourse to stones, and are very dexterous in hitting their mark. It has been said that it is dangerous to walk in the streets of Rome at night, in some of the sub ordinate parts of the city. Perhaps it may, but we have heard of no unfortunate accident having taken place, though we have now been in Rome a consi derable time ; and strangers are out at all hours. The country, however, especially between Rome and Naples, is far from being free from robbers and murderers ; and we have heard of such atro cious deeds as would make you shudder, and place the worst of men much below the worst of savage brutes. A band of these wicked wretches sur rendered themselves the other day to the papal government. At present, they are confined in the castle of St Angelo; every one goes to see them, and we have been there among the rest. We found them with their captain at their head, in 382 CONTRASTS IN ROME. the chapel of the castle, praying fervently. They had nothing savage in appeararice, not even the captain, who boasts of having murdered more than thirty peilsons with his own hands. They were Strong healthy-looking country men, the cap tain seeming the most iusigftificaht of them all ; his lady, however, is perhaps the most beautiful creature now in Rome. These banditti have wives and children, and they seemed, when We saw them a second time, to be very happy. They are re ported to have plenty of money, and are constantly receiving presents. The captain's beauty was pre sented with a valuable necklace 'from an English lady of rank. -LffcieO Bonaparte, and the Prin cess S— C — , were likewise very generous to her. These men are almost all murderers ; yet (is it not surprising ?) they are to have their freedom in a few months. Government allows about 2s. 6d. per day to the captain, and Is. 'GA. to the common robbers ; the former will be at large in three months, the laftter in six. There are other bands of roboers infesting the roads, but they will not surrender, even upon these mild terms. This holy city abounds in contrasts. St Peter's, while it displays the power and ingenuity of man, Contains wit!hin itself a lamentable sign of his weak ness ; the foot of the bronze statue of the natron saint is almost kissed away through bigotry and superstition. From the top of St Peter"s, we per- CONTRASTS IX ROME. 383 ceive the late inquisition on one side, and on the other the Vatican, with all its treasures of litera ture, sculpture, and painting. Then casting the eye to the distance, there appears a contrast be tween the CoUseum and the triumphal arches ; — the fonner having lowered man to the brute creation — the other having exalted him as a god. I may even mention the great bell of St Peter's, * vibrating in the air, and seeming to shake the heavens, contrasted with the little pitiful beUs tink led at the garments of the priests ; the churches covered with gilding, and the people with rags ; the cruelty of putting fire on the backs of the horses, to impel them onwards in the race at the carnival, in this seat qf piety. There is one su blime contrast, however, which I wish we had in our own country, — and that is, the prince and the beggar kneeling at the same altar, t * The solemn tone of the great bell produces a pleasing effect of melancholy no the mind ; we hear no beat or strike of the hammer, it is a simple stand, bat very mournful ; and the emotion it excites is greatly heightened, on reflecting that we are in the city of the Caesars. f This last contrast might teach a useful lesson to our good people in Edinburgh, where the poor are in a manner seclud ed from some of our churches, — as if all were not worshippers of that impartial Creator, who pays no respect to persons. END OF VOLUME FIRST. P__Qted by George Ramsay and Company, Edinburgh, 1819. APPENDIX. VOL. I. B b APPENDIX. No. I. Mineralogical Report, made by the Chief En gineer of the Grand Duke of Tuscany to his Serene Highness, respecting Elba. Portoferraio and the forts of La Stella and II Falcone are- built upon a hill of grey argillaceous schistus, as may be easily observed on the sea-side. On the right of the road from Portoferraio to Rio, a short distance from the Porta del Ponticello, is a hill of indurated clay, containing crystals of quartz, some cubical some irre gular. In many places the rock has crumbled into a com mon clay, in which the quartz crystals are scattered unalter ed. Advancing towards Rio along the sea-shore, we pass the salt-works of Portoferraio. The hills are still composed of argillaceous schistus, covered at the summit by limestone. Rio itself stands upon a hill, in which the schistus and lime stone are disposed in alternate beds. Between Rio and Portolongone the only subject of inter est is the mine of Terra Nera, which lies to the south-east of the latter city. 388 MINERALOGY OF ELBA. Between Longone and Capoliveri lies the plain of Mola, which, although the most fertile soil in the island, is aban doned to stagnant waters, and consequently to malaria, which renders it uninhabitable. Capoliveri stands upon an argillaceous schistus, over the surface of which lie fragments of serpentine and limestone. In the vicinity is the Monte Calamita, or mountain of load. stone, so famous all over Europe, and which, if well manag ed by the government, would alone ensure a subsistence to the wretched inhabitants of the island. In the district of San Peiro, to the west of Capoliveri, is the great granite quarry of Sacchetto, whence, it would ap pear, that the ancients drew many of their columns. Three of the columns in the portico of the Parthenon are of a similar stone. There still exist on the spot, in an unfinished state, several columns inscribed Opera Pisana, and a basin of great diameter. Marciana is built upon the prolongation of the Granite Mountains, now sinking under the schistus. The mountains inland from it are the highest in the island, and so rugged as to be nearly inaccessible. Proceeding round to Portofer raio, we find nothing but the argillaceous schistus. Small as the island is, it contains minerals which might produce an immense revenue. Its mines of gold and silver may be overrated, but the granite and marble quarries are of immense value, and cop per and sulphate of iron form two lucrative branches of trade. The loadstone of Capoliveri, and the iron of Terra Nera, might be worked to any extent, did not the govern ment throw obstacles in the way of exportation. The small Island of Pianosa, immediately adjacent to Elba, now entirely uninhabited, m ight be cultivated to great advantage. The ancient roads still remain, as also the ruins of baths. It has a great extent of land fit for the plough ; TLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 389 600 head of cattle might find pasture ; and the olive and vine thrive well. Napoleon had begun to repair the harbour, and build a fort to protect it from the Algerines, and at the same time cleared out the fountains still in existence. Now, however, all these improvements are abandoned, and Pianosa remains uninhabited. APPENDIX, No. II. The ruins of the Coliseum, as mentioned at p. 300, cover more than five acres of ground. This space has, in the course of ages, become, as it were, a natural botanic garden; so numerous and so various are the plants which flourish there. I am happy to be able to present the following list of them, drawn up by Dr Sebastiani of Rome. To the botanical reader, who may propose a visit to the ancient capital of the world, and to this, the most glorious of its remains, the list must be particularly interesting. It is a remarkable fact, that, out of 26l, no fewer than 148 (marked with an asterisk) are na tives of the British Islands ; a fact which should teach us not to slight our own Flora. Several of the shrubs or trees, such as the fig, the olive, and the mastick, are to be regarded as accidental intruders, unless, perhaps, they may have been planted by the hermit who got the charge of the ruins after their consecration by Pope Benedict XIV. The spot, it may be remarked, is remarkably rich in Trefoils ; for, including those ranked under the title Melilotus, no fewer than sixteen species occur. At the top of the list, which is in alphabeti cal order, the mode of arrangement being a matter of indiffer ence, stands Acanthus mollis, the plant whose leaves acciden tally springing up around a basket, are said tq have given to Callimachus the first idea of the Corinthian capital. 390 PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. Enumeratio Plantarum sponte nascentium in ruderibus Am- phitheatri Flavii. A 1 Acanthus mollis of Linnaeus. 2 Agrostis miliacea do. 3 * Alsine media do. 4 Allium album. Scapo nudo obsolete triquetro ; foliis radicalibus li- neari-lanceolatis, canaliculars, carinatis, umbella capsulifera ; petalis ovatis ; staminibus simplici- bus. Flores candidi. Aprili. Perenn. 5 subhirsutum of Linnaeus. 6 • porrum do. 7 * vineale do. 8 Ammi majus do. 9 * Amaranthus blitum do, 10 retroflexus do. 1 1 * Anagallis arvensis do. 12 * Anchusa angustifolia do. 13 Anemone hortensis do. 14 * Anethum fceniculum do. 15 * Anthemis tinctoria do. Floret Maio ad totam aestatem, atque etiam Autum - num. 1 6 * • arvensis do. 17 * cotula do. 18 * Antirrhinum majus do. lg * cymbalaria do. 20 * Arenaria serpyllifolia do. 21 * Arenaria tenuifolia do. 22 Arnopogon picroides of Willdenow. The Tragopogon picroides of Linnaeus, Flores lutei. Aprili, Maio, Junio. 23 * Artemisia vulgaris of Linnaeus. PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 391 24) Arum Italicum. (Acaule ; foliis albo-venosis, hastato-sagittatis, lobis auriculatis divaricatis, spadice clavato, spat ha bre- viore. Willdenow.) Flores luteo-virides. Aprili. Perenn. 25 Asphodelus fistulosus of Linnaeus. 26 * Atriplex patula do. 27 * Avena fatua do. 28 fragilis do. 29 neglecta. Panicula densa, spiculis glabris nitidis, subsexfloris, glumis apice bifidis, foliis planis pilosis mollibus. Floret Maio, Junio, Autumno. Ann. B 30 * Ballota nigra of Linnaeus. 31 * Bartsia viscosa do. 32 * Bellis perennis do. 33 annua do. 34 * Borago officinalis do. 35 Briza eragrostris do. 36 * Bromus sterilis do. 37 * diandrus of Sir James Smith. 38 *— — — mollis of Linnaeus. 39 ¦ racemosus do. 40 ¦ ligusticus. Panicula contracta, nutante secunda, pedunculis dila- tatis, valvula calycina altera vix conspicua. Circa finem Aprilis. 41 trivialis 42 distachyos of Linnaeus. 43 * pinnatus do. C 44 Calendula officinalis of Linnaeus 45 Campanula erinus do. 392 PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 46 * Cardamine hirsuta of Linnaeus. 47 Capparis spinosa ' do. Also Capparis inermis. 48 * Carduus marianus do. 49 — pycnocephalus do. 50 * nutans do. 51 * Centaurea calcitrapa do. 52 * 1 solstitialis do. 53 * Cerastium vulgatum do. 54 campanulatum, Viviani. Corollis campanulatis, petalis semibifidis, calyce du- plolongioribus. Initio Aprilis ad Augustum. Ann. 55 * -i — *m semidecandrum of Linnaeus. 56 * Chenopodium album do. 57 * '¦ — hybridum do. 58 * . — . vulvaria do. 59 * Chaerophyllum sylvestre of Linnaeus, 60 * Cheiranthus cheiri do. 61 -i -. — maritimus do. 62 * Chironia centaurium of Sir J. Smith, 63 * Cichorium in ty bus of Linnaeus. 64 * Clematis vitalba do. 65 ¦.__.. flammula do. 66 * Cnicus lanceolatus, the Carduus lanceolatus of Linnaeus. 67 * Convolvulus arvensis of Linnaeus. 68 * Cotyledon umbilicus do. 69 Colutea arborescens do 70 * Conyza squarrosa do. 71 . _ sordida do. 72 Coronilla securidaca do. 73 — . cretica do. 74 * Crataegus oxyacantha do. 75 Crepis scariosa of Willdenow. 76 stricta. Foliis radicalibus sinuatis, caulinis sessilibus sagittatis, PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 393 basique laciniatis ; caule erecto, paniculis sparsis, nubilibus nutantibus. Flores lutei. Aprili, Maio, Junio, frequens. Ann. 77 * Crepis fcetida of Linnaeus. 78 setosa of Haller. 79 Chrysanthemum myconis of Linnaeus. 80 Cucubalus Italicus do. 81 * Cynosurus echinatus do. D 82 *Dactylis glomerata of Linnaeus. 83 * Daucus carota do. 84 Delphinium peregrinum do. 85 * Dianthus prolifer do. 86 * Draba muralis do. 87 * verna do. E 88 * Echium vulgare ' do. 89 * ^—^— violaceum do. 90 Epilobium pubescens 91 Ervum uniflorum. Tenore Flor. Napol. Distribut. III. p. 42. Flores sub- rubri. Maio. This plant grows also here and there among the ruins of the Baths of Dioclesian. 92 * hirsutum of Linnaeus. 93 Erodium malacoides of Willdenow. 94 . Romanum do. 95 * — — moschatum do. g6 * Erigeron Canadense of Linnaeus. 97 * Erysimum officinale do. 98 * Euphorbia peplus do. 99 'Euonymus Europaeus do. F 100 * Festuca myuros do. Also a variety, glumis hir- 394< PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. suto-ciliatis. Haec varieias promiscue crescit cum specie ; differt statura minori et glumarum hirsutie. 101 Festuca arundinacea 102 Ferula communis of Linnaeus. 103 Ficus carica sylvestris do. 104 *Fumaria capreolata do. 105 * officinalis do. G 106 * Galium aparine do. 107 * mollugo do. 108 * Geranium rotundifolium do. IO9 * molle do. 110* Robertianum do. Ill Gnaphalium montanum of Willdenow. 112 Gypsophila saxifraga of Linnaeus. H 113 * Hedera helix of Linnaeus. 1 14 Hedypnois Monspeliensis of Willdenow. 115 * Helminthia echiodes do. 116 Heliotropium Europaeum of Linnaeus. 117 * Hypericum perforatum do. 118 * Hypochaeris radicata do. 119 Hyoscyamus albus do. 1 20 Hyacinthus Romanus do. 121 . comosus do. 122 racemosus do. 123 Hieracium tuberosum, the Leontodon bulbosum of Linnaeus. 124 * Holcus lanatus of Linna_us. 125 * Hordeum murinum do 126 bulbosum do. PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 395 I 127 Inula viscosa of Willdenow. 128 * dysenterica of Linnaeus. L 129 * Lagurus ovatus do 130 * Lamium amplexicaule do. 131 laevigatum do. 132 *Lactuca scariola do. 133 Lavatera triloba do. 134 Lepidium graminifolium do. 135 * Ligustrum vulgare do. 136 Linum strictum do. 137 *Lolium perenne do. 138 * . temulentum do. 1 39 * Lonicera caprifolium do. 140 * Lotus ornithopodioides do. 141 * corniculatus do. 142 * Lychnis flos-cuculi do. 143 * dioica do. M 144 *Malva sylvestris do. 145 . Mauritiana do. 146 *Medicago lupulina do. 147 maculata of Willdenow. 148 denticulata, do. 14g tribuloides of Willdenow. 150 i minima do. 151 sphaerocarpos 152 * Mel-lotus officinalis. 153 Italica. 154 Indica 155 Melica ciliata of Linnaeus. 1 56 ramosa of Willdenow. 396 PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 157 Melissa calamintha of Linnaeus. 158 cordifolia 159 * Mercurialis annua of Linnaeus 160 *Myosotis arvensis 161 Myagrum rugosum of Linnaeus. 162 ¦ erucaefolium O 163 OleaEuropeaof Linnaeus, also a variety, Olea sylvestris. 164 * Orobanche minor 165 * ————— ramosa of Linnaeus. 166 Ornithopus scorpioides do. 167 * Origanum vulgare do. 168 Osyris alba do. 169 * Oxalis corniculata do. P 170 * Panicum viride do. 171 * Papaver somniferum do. 172 * . Rhaeas do. 173 Phyllirea media do. 174 Phalaris bulbosa do. 175 * paradoxa do. 176 * Picris hieracioides do. 177 Pistacia lentiscus do. 178 * Plantago lanceolata do 179 psyllium do. 180 " Potentilla reptans do. 181 * Poterium sanguisorba do. 182 Polygala Monspeliaca do 183 Portulaca oleracea do. 184 * Poa trivialis do. 185 * annua do. 186 ' * rigida do 187 Polycarpon tetraphyllum do. PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 397 188 * Prunella vulgaris of Linnaeus. 189 • Polygonum convolvulus do. 190 * persicaria do. 191 * aviculare do. R 192 " Ranunculus bulbosus do. 193 " Raphanus raphanistrum do. 194 Reseda undata do. 195 Rhamnus alaternus do. 196 Rhinanthus trixago do. 197 Rosa sempervirens do. 198 - Rubus fruticosus do. I99 Rumex pulcher do. 200 Ruta chalepensis do. S 201 * Salvia verbenaca do. 202 • Sambucus ebulus do. 203 • Saxifraga tridactylites do. 204 • Scabiosa columbaria do. 205 Scolymus Hispanicus do. 206 Secale villosum do. 207 * Sedum dasyphyllum do. 208 * reflexum do. 209 * Senecio vulgaris do. 210 " Sherardia arvensis do. Flores rubro-ccerulei. Aprili, Maio. Ann. 211 muralis do. Flores lutei. Aprili, Maio. Ann. 212 Seriola _Etnensis do. 213 * Sisymbrium irio do. 214* tenuifolium do. 215 Sideritis Romana do. 216 * Sinapis alba do. 398 PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 217 Sinapis erucoides of Linnaeus. 218 * Smyrnium olusatrum do. 219 * Sonchus oleraceus do. 220 — — — tenerrimus do. 221 picroides do. T 222 * Thlaspi bursa-pastoris do. 223 * Thymus vulgaris do. 224 * Tordylium maximum do. 225 Tozzettia pratensis of Savi. Tozzettia, spica ovata, valvis calycinis compressis carina pilosis, arista articulata, vagina superiori utriculata. [It is the Phalaris utriculata of Linnaeus. It flowers in April, and is a perennial.] 226 Tribulus terrestris of Linnaeus. 227 Trigonella corniculata do. 228 Trifolium hybridum do. 229 ¦ repens do. 230 * pratense do. 231 pallidum do. Flores albo-virides. Circa finem Aprilis. Ann. 232 ¦ — lappaceum of Linnaeus. 233 angustifolium do. 234 * scabrum do. 235 * maritimum of Sir James Smith. 236 supinum of Savi. Flores purpurascentes. Junio, Julio. Ann. 237 resupinatum of Linnaeus. 238 * fragiferum do. 239 * . filiforme do. 240 * ¦ — agrarium do. 241 aureurn Flores aurei. Floret circa finem Aprilis. Ann. 242 * Tussilago farfara of Linnaeus. PLANTS WITHIN THE COLISEUM. 399 U 243 Urtica membranacea 244 * pilulifera of Linnaeus. 245 * • dioica do. 246 * Valeriana olitoria of Willdenow. 247 Valantia muralis of Linnaeus 248 " Veronica agrestis do. 249 * hederaefolia do. 250 cymbalaria of the Italian botanists, a rare plant; flowers white. It flowers in February, March, April, and in Autumn, and is an Annual. * 251 * arvensis of Linnaeus. 252 acinifolia of do. A common plant about Rome 253 * Verbena officinalis of Linnaeus. 254 Verbascum sinuatum do. 255 Viburnum tinus do. 256 * Vicia cracca do. 257 * sativa do. 258 * hybrida do. 259 — Bithynica do. 260 * Viola odorata do. X 261 Xantium spinosum of Linnaeus. * Bcrtoloni describes this species, Veronica folii cordato-rotundatis, subseptem dentatis calydbus frucius patentibus, laciniis ovatis, capsulis hirsutis. DIRECTIONS FOR PLACING THE ENGRAVINGS, VOL. I. Design for a Cemetery, frontispiece to Vol. I. Sketches from Italian Cottages, to front page .63 Fire at Pietra Mala, - - 72 Sketches of Italian and Grecian Chimneys, - 75 Fortress at Porte Ferrajo, with the Palace of Napoleon. 206 Fac-Simile of a Sketch by the Emperor Napoleon, 235 Sketch from the Skull of Raphael, - - 323 Italian Peasant, - - - 380 Italian Peasant and Children, - - ib. Italian Costumes, - - - ib. VOL. II. Portrait of the Priest of Delphi, frontispiece to Vol. II. Castle of Otranto, - , - to front page 145 Medals emblematical of the Ionian Islands, - 189 Do. do. - - ib. Greek Dance, - - - 2^5 Caloyer Priests of Daulis, - - 268 Etchings of Leaves, - - - 283 Grecian IVJelodies, - - - 368 Greek Costumes, - - 370 ERRATA. VOL. I. Page 10, line 9, fir Vangoen read Vangoyen 21, 23, — 406 1406 73, 26, — appear appearing 84, 2, — notches niches 86, 19, — della Bella delle Belle 81 to 84, title, — statues in the Palazzo vecchio read STATUES IN THE PIAZZO DEL GBANDUCA 87, 28, — impression read expression 113, 19, — Caracaggio Caravaggio 121, 26, Subterman Subtermans 176, 10, — Serventi Servienti 204, 7, Piembino Piombino 217, 2, — Aleatico Areatico 250, 18, — Piano Kan 254, 7, — Cartona Cortona 266, 8, — gameos cameos 340, 6, — clean clear 363, 3, — other women another woman 383, last note, — secluded exduded.